<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Reform by SquibbyPrincess</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27803512">Reform</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/SquibbyPrincess/pseuds/SquibbyPrincess'>SquibbyPrincess</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Catharsis, Drama, Enemies to Lovers, Ensemble Cast, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Idiots in Love, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Plotty, Polyamory, Post-War, Romance, Sex, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Threesome - M/M/M, Well-Written</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-05-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-20 11:35:02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>119,211</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27803512</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/SquibbyPrincess/pseuds/SquibbyPrincess</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>8th yr, poly, plotty, slow burn but worth it. Malfoy is up to something and Ron and Harry are obsessed: different year, same Hogwarts. In the wake of Voldemort's defeat, their shared history brings them closer than ever.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Anthony Goldstein/Hermione Granger, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy/Ron Weasley, Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Harry Potter/Ron Weasley, Harry Potter/Ron Weasley/Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Neville Longbottom/Blaise Zabini</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>138</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>351</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Summer at the Burrow</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>So now seems like a great time to rekindle the fires of a years long obsession... I like to think I'm armed with some improved sense of plot, pacing, characterisation... who knows or even dares to dream to imagine they can hope. Anyway, I appreciate any and all feedback. =)</p><p>Yes, it all begins where Rowling left off, minus the Epilogue and barring a few details changed here and there, of course. The plan is to deviate wildly in as believable a manner as possible. Isn't that always the plan? It'll all make sense, trust me.</p><p>def 'Reform':<br/>- To relinquish a criminal or self-destructive life and change for the better.<br/>- To amend an institution or practice in order to improve it.<br/>- To form something anew, from broken parts.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was two weeks before the start of term and Harry Potter was warm, happy and probably the most relaxed he'd ever been in his whole life. He, Hermione and Ron were sprawled out in the garden, languidly zapping gnomes as they tried to sneak sandwich crusts from the long abandoned picnic basket beside them. The gnomes would shriek dreadfully as they flew several feet into the air. Their cries were the only noises that cut through the buzz of cicadas and the occasional muted sounds of activity from inside the house. It had been like this all summer. It had been heaven.</p><p>Ron was winning so far with a straight shot through the branches of the tree at the bottom of the garden. The tree was blackened from the fire that had burned down the old Burrow. It reached for the sun like a clawed hand. Molly had tried to pretty it up some with bunting and a bamboo windchime. This hadn't helped.</p><p>The grass around them was brown: August's heat wave had finally done in the British greenery. As a result, everyone at the Burrow had spent much of the last six weeks outside. Harry finally had a proper tan, even if it did only extend up to his shirt sleeves and where his shorts ended at the knee.</p><p>Ron, on the other hand, was - like all the Weasleys - a patchwork of ruddy pink and bright white stripes. He'd taken to wearing a straw hat and, after some pestering, putting a thick layer of <i>Mildred's Sun Soothing Ointment</i> on the bridge of his nose and cheeks, not caring a bit that George had called him a big mummy's boy for doing so. They were all just glad George was up for telling any kind of joke. Without Fred, he'd become uncharacteristically quiet. The whole family had. Loud, quiet, loud again. Normal. Very not normal. Sometimes all they did was laugh, all day. Sometimes... sometimes the Burrow felt barren and soulless and still, in a way it never had before. But, today wasn't one of those days, thank Godric.</p><p>"Look, it says here they've made more arrests in Wiltshire - do you think that's got anything to do with Malfoy? His manor is close to the area where they found them," Hermione said.</p><p>Harry sat up and looked at the paper she'd thrust under his nose. There was a picture of black robed figures moving about in the woods. He didn't recognise any faces.</p><p>"I can't believe the git's coming back to Hogwarts," muttered Ron, who was lying in the grass with his hat pulled down over his eyes.</p><p>They'd heard the news from Seamus, who'd heard it from a friend at the Ministry. Apparently, a whole bunch of Slytherins who had been pardoned were to return to Hogwarts, by mandatory decree, to complete their education.</p><p>Harry shrugged diplomatically. "You were at the trial. And you know what happened in the Tower wasn't really his fault. And he did try to save me that one time."</p><p>"Yeah but the Vanishing Cabinets were all on him. And the fire in the Room of Requirement-"</p><p>"-That was Crabbe actually," Harry interjected.</p><p>Ron thumped the ground. "I just think that even though he's meant to be reformed he probably still has connections with his old Death Eater buddies, right?"</p><p>"That's what I'm <em>saying</em>," Hermione said, rolling her eyes. "Just because he's got away with all the stuff he's done, doesn't mean he's a good guy now, does it? So maybe he's got something to do with these arrests. Maybe he was helping them, or they'd had a secret meeting or something. I really don't understand them letting him back in what with everything that's happened. I get that he doesn't deserve to be locked up in Azkaban-"</p><p>"Debatable," Harry said, the corner of his lip twitching as he and Ron shared a look.</p><p>"But he really shouldn't be back at school. There are children there, for goodness' sake. He's dangerous. He's definitely a criminal. I have a mind to write to Headmistress McGonagall about it."</p><p>She folded her arms, then sighed and flopped back onto the grass. "I'm preaching to the choir, aren't I?"</p><p>"Little bit," Ron chuckled.</p><p>Harry murmured in agreement. "'Sides. McGonagall's got to let him in anyway. And the rest. Ministry wanted them to have a 'chance to prove themselves under the guidance of the brave witches and wizards who fought against yada yada.'" He cringed. They had called him a 'Beacon for Justice' and an 'Example to Follow' in that same speech at the trials. He rather doubted the Slytherins would agree.</p><p>"Bloody hell, never mind Malfoy, I can't believe <em>we're</em> going back," said Ron. He rolled onto his front, crawled around Harry, who was cross-legged and frowning at the newspaper, and tucked himself in beside Hermione on the ground.</p><p>She nodded. "Yes. It's rather a peculiar feeling, isn't it? Like... Hogwarts is a whole other planet, now.</p><p>"Lift," she said. Ron held his head up and she removed the hat, running her hands through his fiery red hair. It had grown a lot over the last year and recently he'd cut the sides short, leaving the top long enough to tie back in a quirky little bun, though he had it loose now.</p><p>She grimaced. "Sweaty."</p><p>He grinned and rubbed his face into her neck.</p><p>Burying his own face further into an article about the property sales on Knockturn Alley (suddenly, shopkeepers had disappeared up and down the street just after Voldemort's death. Massive shocker.), Harry blushed as she squealed and batted Ron's arm. He still wasn't used to the fact that his best friends were dating. It was... nice, obviously. They'd been dancing around one another for years, but now that he'd been faced with a whole summer's worth of catching them snogging in corners, giving each other pining looks and a dramatic increase in all manner of affectionate gestures, he was feeling rather like a third wheel.</p><p>He chanced a glance only to get an eyeful of Ron planting a big wet kiss on Hermione's lips. He'd caught hold of her arm, his muscles taught, and had it pinned to her side. Even as she squirmed under him she wasn't really trying very hard to escape his impromptu attack.</p><p>"Err.. I'm going to see if I can help with the tea," Harry muttered. He uncrossed his legs, feeling heat prickle his neck and not just because of the afternoon sun.</p><p>As he entered the front door of the Burrow, everything was dark to his adjusting eyes and he didn't see the person coming towards him until it was too late.</p><p>"Ow!" Ginny said, ruefully, from the floor.</p><p>"Sorry!" Harry held out a hand and she let him pull her up. "I uhh, didn't see you there."</p><p>"Is my brother doing gross things with 'Mione again?" Ginny asked.</p><p>Harry rubbed his neck and nodded. He was pretty sure his face was the colour of a letterbox.</p><p>"Ew."</p><p>"Yeah."</p><p>There was an awkward pause. That was the other thing that had happened this summer. After the battle of Hogwarts he and Ginny had finally had a chance to sit, talk, sift through their feelings. They both had a lot of them. Neither of them were very good at using their words, though. The problem was, those feelings were all mixed up in pain. The losses, Fred, Remus, Tonks... fuck, even thinking about them or saying their names felt like trying to swallow a ball of gillyweed the size of a quaffle.</p><p>So, they'd spent a good few weeks having very wet snogging sessions were one or both of them would start crying at some point, and then they'd engage in a few barbed fights, followed by more snogging and crying and snogging.</p><p>Once they'd moved past that bit, though, Harry had to admit... he'd enjoyed their time together over June and even most of July. In fact, Ginny's enthusiasm was equal parts frightening and exhilarating. She was interested in his (scrawny, bony, scarred) body in a way that he didn't know girls could be interested in a guy's body, like, ever. He'd never thought of himself as... what was the right word? Desirable? Nope, too weird to even contemplate. But she'd informed him he was 'bloody hot' once and that compliment had him grinning ear to ear for at least a week. Even if she did call him an 'idiot' seconds later.</p><p>Ginny was... well, she was something else. More experienced than Harry, for sure. Her kisses were full of bites and nibbles that left his lips bruised. She'd trail embarrassing purple marks all down his chest, which he'd desperately try to hide from Ron whenever he was getting changed in their room. She'd held him and let him touch her anywhere he felt like, and he'd felt like touching every inch of her soft, freckled skin, and god she'd just open herself like a flower beneath his fingers, so needy and <i>wanting</i> him to go further, do more, touch her <em>there</em>...</p><p>He realised he was staring.</p><p>"Uh. Um. I was gonna see if Mrs Weasley needed a err... needed a hand with anything."</p><p>"Right. You know she hates it if you don't call her 'Molly'. But ah, no I was just coming out to let you know food's almost ready anyway and I've done the table so..."</p><p>"So, we need to interrupt whatever's happening out there," he said, sticking his thumb behind him.</p><p>She closed here eyes. "I'm almost certain walking into a room full of Death Eaters was less horrifying. OK, can you take my hand and lead me there or something? Better yet, you go get them yourself. You can't expect a sister to see her brother <i>in flagrante delicto<i>. It'd scar me for life."</i></i></p><p>"And what about me? Hermione's like a sister to me, too you know. And I've only just escaped."</p><p>"I'll tell Ron about that time we used his bed to-"</p><p>"Alright, alright!" Harry felt his ears practically catch fire. He spun on his heel and marched back outside. He waved his arms hoping to break up the pair rolling around in the grass before he got close enough to see anything he didn't want to see. They ignored him completely. He could see Hermione had shoved her hands up Ron's top so half his lower back was gleaming in the sun, practically reflective it was so white.</p><p>Maybe he should've just let Ginny tell Ron all about the incident with Ron's bed... they'd put down a towel, of course... that hardly counted as 'defiling his property', right? She had a wicked mouth on her though and rather than shy away from letting on what she and Harry had been up to, she had a habit of hinting to depths of rampant indecency that Harry knew were quite made up. Maybe it was just to see how far she could push it before one of her brothers punched him in the face. He had a thought that she wanted a little bit of pay back, even if their break up had been somewhat mutual... after he'd brought up the idea, initially.</p><p>As he walked up to his friends, he felt the stirring of that old familiar lion in his chest (or was it more appropriate to say the snake in his trousers?). His ears, still burning, tuned into the low roar he'd learned to recognise as his teenage brain yelling at him to 'get person, put in cave, ravish for hours, ugga ugh'. It wasn't to do with the pair of them - he hardly thought of Hermione in that way at all, and he was definitely not jealous of her being Ron's girlfriend - it was just that it had been at least a month since he and Ginny had last been, uhh, intimate. The sight of a heavy make-out session, which looked and sounded like it was being very much enjoyed by all involved, was enough to make Harry wish he'd made a different choice. Maybe they should have kept the sex bit of the relationship alive. Hmm bad idea, on second thoughts. Probably.</p><p>He coughed. Then again. Louder.</p><p>"Eek! Ron get off, you lout!" Hermione shoved at his best mate, who was - to Harry's horror - sucking on her earlobe. Ron groaned, but rolled off, surreptitiously snatching up his hat and putting it in his lap.</p><p>"Wotcher, Harry?" he said in an unintended imitation of Tonks that caused a cloud to pass over his eyes for a split second.</p><p>"Sorry Harry," said Hermione, blushing and sitting up. There was grass sticking up at all angles in her hair. She had a blob of Ron's sunscreen on her chin.</p><p>"S'alright." Harry looked pointedly at the ground. "Food's up."</p><p>"Brilliant!" Ron exclaimed.</p><p>The trio gathered their leftover picnic things and trooped inside. Molly was floating steaming casserole dishes through to the dining room and called out to them to all take their shoes off <i>please</i> and not to dump everything on the floor <i>thank you.</i></p><p>By the time they'd washed their hands and Ron had helped Hermione pick the grass out her hair, the table was groaning with troughs of casserole and heaps of potatoes and mountains of steamed veg. It smelled like heaven. Harry's mouth watered.</p><p>"This looks awesome, Mrs- Molly," he said.</p><p>She smiled at him, a small smile. She only managed small smiles these days. "Thank you Harry dear. Get yourself in beside Percy will you? Start on the mash and pass it round."</p><p>The three of them crowded in beside Percy, who was on his own on one side of the table. Ginny, George and George's friend Lee Jordan, who was had taken a break from his radio show to stay at the Burrow for a month and make it his mission to keep George's spirits up, mostly with ear-related puns, sat on the other side. Mr and Mrs Weasley were on one corner, so Harry tool the spot next to Percy, Hermione sat beside him and Ron took the seat at the end.</p><p>Percy didn't say hello. Percy didn't say much these days, haunted as he was by witnessing Fred's death only a few months prior, and clearly racked with guilt over his time at the Ministry. He spent a lot of time apologising. The shadows under his eyes seemed permanent. Harry wished the Weasley siblings would hurry up and forgive him. It was becoming rather difficult to see the guy wander around like a kicked puppy in his own home. He figured it wasn't really his place to say, though. The least he could do was sit next to him at dinner and hope he recognised the show of solidarity.</p><p>"Ear of corn, my man?" said Lee, loudly.</p><p>"Shut up and give it 'ear," growled George, scratching the scar on the side of his head. Only Harry noticed he was pointing the tip of his wand, which was up his sleeve, at the bowl of sweetcorn.</p><p>"Yeouch!" Lee yelled as he touched the bowl that had suddenly become red hot.</p><p>"Careful, dear," Molly said absently.</p><p>He sucked his fingers, glaring daggers at George who, with another tiny swish of his wand, cooled the bowl and picked it up himself.</p><p>"What a pansy," he chuckled as he spooned sweetcorn onto his plate.</p><p>Harry was grateful to have Lee there. It had brought George back to life - just a little bit - to have his friend glued to his side. It reminded him of when it used to be the three of them, Fred, George and Lee, pulling pranks and getting into mischief back at Hogwarts. Now, that felt like a million years ago.</p><p>With Lee Jordan's commentary running near non-stop throughout the meal, only to be interrupted by a heated argument about Ron's favourite Quidditch team the Chudley Cannons' latest dire performance, they all tucked in and were soon leaning back with stomachs fit to burst.</p><p>"Diagon Alley tomorrow then, chaps?" Mr Weasley - no, <i>Arthur</i>, Harry reminded himself - said.</p><p>Hermione clapped her hands. "The letters have come in, then? They took ages this year!"</p><p>Arthur smiled - a small smile - and patted the front of his robes before he pulled out a wad of envelopes. He handed them round.</p><p>"That they have! I hear they spent much of the summer trying to figure this whole extra year out with class schedules and dorms so on. Funny the business of an eighth year, wonder if you'll be sharing classes with the seventh years or what? Ginny - how'd you feel, if Ronald were in your class, eh?"</p><p>Ron choked on a spoonful of pudding. "I am <i>not<i> going to be in a class with my baby sister," he grumbled. "S'not happ'nin'."</i></i></p><p>Ginny shot him a glare. "I bet I'd beat you at every subject," she said, haughtily.</p><p>Hermione squealed. The paper shook in her hands. "Ron, Harry open yours!" And before they could, she carried on in a rush, "they've given me an 'Outstanding' in Defence Against the Dark Arts!"</p><p>They tore at their envelopes.</p><p>"What? Me too!" whooped Ron, getting up and dancing round the table, punching the air.</p><p>Harry looked at his letter and yes, he also had an 'O' for the Defence Against the Dark Arts N.E.W.T at the top of the page. He launched out of his seat, beamed at his friends and bundled them both in a hug. It was stupid to care about grades, but it was so <i>fucking</i> ordinary and for some reason it left all three of them bouncing around like idiots.</p><p>Molly laughed and shot small sparks out of her wand, waving it in the air, which shocked George.</p><p>"Fireworks in the house, mother?"</p><p>She merely patted his arm. "They deserve it."</p><p>In a properly celebratory mood, now, Harry picked up his letter and read the rest.</p><p>"And we've got the chance to choose our N.E.W.T.s again, due to 'interrupted studies and unprecedented circumstances'," Hermione said, doing the same. "They're doing separate classes - sorry, Gin - and special exams for us to accommodate that we've has so much disruption last year. So we'll be doing one year N.E.W.T.s..." Her face fell. "Do you think that won't count the same as the regular two year qualifications?"</p><p>"I think they've thought of that, 'cause look, we've only got to do four classes so I bet they'll have us doing extra to make up the difference for each one. And we'll still come away with five N.E.W.T.s with the one we've all got already. Maybe they gave everyone a free grade this year..."</p><p>"Oh Harry, do you think that means they'll let me take another class, then? Two more was a bit much before, but I was so hoping to do the Study of Ancient Runes and Divination and I didn't want to have to choose."</p><p>Ron snorted. "Divination? Why? What's the point?"</p><p>She rounded on him, voice dripping with sarcasm.</p><p>"May I remind you that Harry's entire life has been defined by a prophecy? One that determined the outcome of the battle of Hogwarts and shaped everything that's happened before and since? Just a little something that Trelawney made up, you know, you may have heard it: 'Neither shall live while the other survives' and so on.</p><p>"I've decided it's an area of magic worth some attention, even if I do think some of it's hogwash."</p><p>
  <i>Harry's entire life has been defined by a prophecy.</i>
</p><p>Harry stood up. Not looking her in the eye, but with his fingernails cutting semi-circles in the palm of his hand, he announced he was going to bed. He left before anyone could protest.</p><p>Behind him he heard Ron say, "Aw shucks, 'Mione. I think you've put your foot in it with that one..."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. First Encounters</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>After a night's sleep, Harry had pretty much forgotten whatever he'd gone to bed sulking about and was in good spirits when they arrive by floo at Diagon Alley. He even managed to pronounce the place clearly this time. The sun was blisteringly hot, yet again. Around their group, the street was heaving with students and their parents and guardians, all shopping for the start of the term.</p><p>Unsurprisingly, a fair few familiar faces stood out amongst the crowd, given the last minute nature of the Hogwarts letters given out to returning eighth years. Harry and Ron were practically bowled over by Padma and Parvati Patil, who snagged them both in a pincer move before excitedly telling them they'd be seeing them in a few weeks and disappearing as quickly as they'd appeared.</p><p>Hermione looked nonplussed at this exchange, though she did raise an eyebrow at Ron's bemused expression. Across the street, Dean Thomas waved and gave them a thumbs up.</p><p>"'Arry!" boomed a voice from <em>Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour</em>, which Harry saw was now being run by a young man who must surely be Florean's son. Hagrid emerged clutching a towering five-scoop cone covered in raspberry sauce, which had already started to melt down his knuckles.</p><p>"Hagrid!" they chorused.</p><p>"Reckoned I'd catch you lot 'ere. "</p><p>After the usual round of hugs (Ron was left gasping with his hands on his knees while Hermione patted his back sympathetically) they decided to split off with Hagrid for a bit while Molly and Arthur headed to Gringotts with Ginny.</p><p>George and Lee left to open <em>Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes</em> for the day - George tended to open the shop at ten and close around six or seven. As he put it, there was no way he was getting up for a nine o'clock opening time. Not now, not ever. Over his dead body. Then he'd cackle, bitterly.</p><p>Over the summer, Ron had been helping him out a bit as well, though obviously not today. He'd taken quite a liking to inventing wizarding games and puzzles, and had even helped George start a new product line of mechanical mice that sang Quidditch anthems if you wound the pegs on their backs in the right way.</p><p>They decided to pick up their robes at <em>Madame Malkin's</em> first. On the way, Hagrid was full of stories about the Hogwarts restoration project. Huge areas of the castle had been destroyed and it'd taken an army of Ministry officials and volunteers to rectify the damage.</p><p>"There's still plenty tah do, af'er all tha'," he said. "I'd steer clear 'f the left wing o' the dungeons, mind. Weird stuff goin' on round the greenhouses - plants huv a life o' there own and they've uh, mounted a resistance 'gainst the pruning team. An' 'alf the roof's caved in on the Astronomy tower."</p><p>Hermione groaned. "Oh a do hope they fix that soon. I'm taking Astronomy."</p><p>"Anyway, nuff abou' Hogwarts. How's the love life, eh? Gettin' on are we?"</p><p>It was Ron's turn to groan.</p><p>"It's ah... uh... Hagrid, d'you mind?"</p><p>The half-giant chuckled into his beard. "Alrigh', tha' good is it? An' 'Arry? How's you and the young Weasley lass?"</p><p>They'd levelled with the shop door at the stage and Harry pretended not to hear as he bustled through the door. He was not, repeat <em>not</em> about to tell Hagrid the reason that he and Ginny had split up. In fact, he hadn't even told Ron. To be fair, Ron might be one of the last people on the planet he'd tell. He knew Hermione had managed to wrestle the information out of Ginny though, but she'd been sworn to silence. He could only hope it would stay that way.</p><p>Madame Malkin's eyes widened as he entered the fabric-bedecked shop. She pinned a fold of fabric in place in the mannequin and hurried forward.</p><p>"For some reason I wasn't expecting you, Mister Harry Potter. Figured you would be living the celebrity life now or some such, I'm sure."</p><p>Harry felt his smile was forced, but he persevered. "Nope! One more year of Hogwarts. Need to get my N.E.W.T.s and well, didn't get much of a chance to go to class last year what with everything."</p><p>"Oh of course not! Very good."</p><p>The others piled in behind him. She sized them up with an appraising eye. "I suppose you'll all want school robes as well, is it? Dress robes, too?"</p><p>"I'm not sure we'll need them-" Hermione started.</p><p>Hagrid grunted and said, "Actually... we thought we migh' have a wee bash at the end o' the year roun' Christmas time. Don' have to get them now, but if yer wantin' to migh' be an idea. Was on yer letter. Celebrate the vict'ry, let your hair down an' tha'."</p><p>Harry shuddered. Not another Yule Ball. Not again. And he couldn't exactly ask Ginny to go. So just to add to the fact that he'd have another year's worth of lessons to cram for (he wasn't sure he could remember half of anything he'd learned in sixth year), there was the small problem of finding a date. His history with girls being anything to go by, he was headed for yet another disastrous series of mortifying events.</p><p>Hermione, on the other hand, perked up at this news. "That sounds rather wonderful, actually."</p><p>Hagrid whispered conspiratorially, "An now yer of age, they've said there'll be drink for the eighth years. Can be havin' you fight a war fir us an' not let ye enjoy a nip or two."</p><p>Undeterred by this news, Ron was looking downcast.</p><p>"Do I have to learn how to dance?" he moaned. Harry glanced at him, gratefully. At least he wasn't the only one dreading another evening of awkward socialising. He did have a thought, though.</p><p>"OK, then yes, school robes for all of us - and dress robes, too. For me and Ron."</p><p>Madame Malkin nodded and turned to the rows of black Hogwarts robes on the rack.</p><p>Ron's jaw gaped. "No you can't, Harry. It's too expensive, and I don't need them."</p><p>"Yes you bloody do," Harry laughed. "I don't remember your robes from the wedding being in any kind of good nick after traipsing through the woods and being crammed in a sack for months.</p><p>"And not to mention you have Hermione to impress with how handsome you'd look in a proper set of dress robes." He waggled his eyebrows.</p><p>"H-handsome?"</p><p>Hermione joined in. "Oh yes Ronald, this is your opportunity to sweep me off my feet," she teased.</p><p>"That's it settled then!" Harry punched Ron lightly on the arm. "Let's turn you into a dapper Dan."</p><p>"A - what?"</p><p>"I'll come back for my robes in a bit. I think I'll go pick up a new set of quills. Meet you at Flourish and Blotts in an hour!" Hermione waved and disappeared. Hagrid chuckled and settled himself on the bench by the window. He'd been told by the proprietor to keep his half eaten ice cream as far as possible away from the merchandise.</p><p>Madame Malkin fussed over them for a bit, sizing their robes and drawing up the hem for Harry's. He was about half a foot shorter than Ron, and it seemed set to stay that way, much to his chagrin. In the end, for his dress robes Harry chose a simple set of black robes with a black corduroy strip down the trouser legs, and a silver and black patterned silk lining on the cloak and collar. He told Ron to pick whatever he liked. Madame Malkin took pity on his lost expression and in the end practically shoved the boy into the dressing area with a teetering bundle of options stacked so high he was bent double backwards, and from one angle looked as if he was a walking laundry pile on legs with a carrot-orange top poking out the other end.</p><p>When Ron emerged in a purple number festooned with peacock feathers, it took Harry at least a full minute to catch his breath he was laughing so hard.</p><p>"And here I thought this was the one," Ron said, cocking his hip and grinning. He twirled and blew a kiss over his shoulder before rolling his eyes and closing the curtain again.</p><p>While Ron was trying on the next outfit, Harry counted out the coins to pay for his stuff. He had plenty for Ron's dress robes and the books and things he needed to get, and then some left over. Was there anything else he needed? He ran through the list.</p><p>"Thinkin' of gettin' another owl?" Hagrid asked, wiping his hands on a yellow handkerchief covered in repeating daisies.</p><p><em>Ouch</em>. That stung a bit. Images of Hedwig's white wings, soaring, crossed his mind. Then that night: the flash of green. He never even got to say goodbye.</p><p>Hagrid caught sight of his expression before he could tell his face to shut up.</p><p>"Sorry, don' mean tah' pry. A sore subject. Ah should've never brought it up. It's jus'. She was a beaut she wis, jus' - a familiar's impor'ant, you know? Gives you somethin' tae look after. An' really it's the animals that look after us, like my Fluffy and Norbert an Fang, o' course, an' even the Blast-ended Skrewts..." Hagrid blew his nose into the daisies, making the pattern race to the hem of the handkerchief like blown dandelion seeds. "What ah'd've done without 'em I don't know."</p><p>"Um. Yeah. I might get something. Maybe not an owl this time?"</p><p>"Thas good, 'Arry. Thas a good idea."</p><p>Just then, the door chimed. Harry glanced round to see who had come in only to freeze, sweat springing to his palms.</p><p>"Malfoy," he practically barked. <em>Shit</em>.</p><p>To be fair, Draco Malfoy looked equally pleased to see him. That was to say, not at all. Except... except instead of the usual sneer, insult and general, well, Malfoyness, this time he just stopped in his tracks, closed his eyes as if he were in pain, nodded, opened his eyelids, and looked around for Madame Malkin.</p><p>She was nowhere to be seen. Malfoy edged slightly to the left, away from Hagrid and Harry's bench. He craned his neck, as if that would help.</p><p>Harry gulped. It was the first time he's seen Malfoy since his trial. <em>This is not normal. This is anything BUT normal. I can hardly call out Draco Malfoy for being a slimy, traitorous, bullying, evil git in the middle of a shop, where he's allowed to be for fuck's sake. How can he just be standing there like that? Like nothing over the last year even happened. Hell, the last seven years. What the actual-</em></p><p>"Ta-da!" Ron cried, sweeping open the red velvet curtain.</p><p>
  <em>Oh. Fuuuuuck.</em>
</p><p>Before Harry could stop him, Ron launched himself across the room, fists flying. Malfoy yelped as the red-headed tornado pummelled into him and they both crashed into a rack of first-year robes, scattering them to the ground and entangling both boys in a maelstrom of robes, hangers and bent metal poles. Ron didn't let up for a second in raining his bare fists down on Malfoy's arms, which he was using to cover his head.</p><p>"What in the name of GODRIC!" yelled Madame Malkin as she shot out of the back room.</p><p>Harry winced and ran towards the tussling pair. He dragged at Ron's collar, not caring as the stitches popped and ripped with the effort of hauling the larger boy off. He was practically screaming in Ron's ear, but his best friend was blind with fury, still swinging at the air even as Harry, with an almighty effort, hurled him back onto his arse with a thud.</p><p>"Thas ENOUGH!" Hagrid bellowed, hefting Ron to his feet from behind. Unfortunately he'd stepped in the edge of Ron's cloak as he did so, causing the entire thing, which Harry had already weakened at the seams, to rip in half as he lifted Ron by the armpits. Ron was left, dangling from Hagrid's great paws, in the shirt, waistcoat and trousers, which Harry noticed were torn on one knee as well.</p><p>"Oop, sorry 'bout tha'."</p><p>"Absolutely out of order!" Madame Malkin was shrieking. She waved her wand, practically poking Harry up the nose with it. "I don't care WHO you think you are. I will have none of this violence in my store. You will pay for your purchases and the damage, and <em>get out!</em>"</p><p>Harry held up his hands defensively and nodded. He turned to where Draco Malfoy was sprawled. His lip was burst. And there were signs of a real shiner emerging around his left eye. His normally perfect blonde hair was in total disarray - it was longer than Harry had ever seen him wear it, making him look even more like his father than he did before. He was shaking.</p><p>Unthinking, Harry offered him a hand. Malfoy stared at it for a second before baring bloody teeth in a false smile, batting it away and struggling to his feet himself. He slicked back his hair with both hands, wiped his lip and stalked out the door without a word.</p><p>In fact, he hadn't said a single word the entire time.</p><p>Ron eyes were flashing with anger. His grazed fists shook at his sides. Strands of his hair had escaped from their tie and dangled infront of his eyes, reminding Harry, for a moment, of Sirius Black. Through gritted teeth he finally managed to speak. His voice was low, choked with rage.</p><p>"Hagrid. Put me down, please."</p><p>"Yah won' go chasin' after 'im, will yah?"</p><p>"No."</p><p>"Alrigh'."</p><p>Hagrid plunked Ron back on his feet. The dress robes, which were a crushed velvet green with a white shirt, were ruined. Shame as they would have looked rather nice if the cloak part weren't ripped entirely in two pieces.</p><p>"I'm not going to be able to manage this, Harry." Ron shook his head like a dog. He splayed his fingers, opening and closing them as the feeling of bruised knuckles reached the bit of his brain that could feel pain. "A whole year without killing the git? I won't make it."</p><p>Harry sighed. "You'll make it. We just need to ignore him. Come on, let's get out of here."</p><p>He ended up buying the dress robes. Maybe someone at Hogwarts or Molly or something could fix them. Madame Malkin wasn't going to let Ron try on any more after that display, so he was a bit stuck either way.</p><p>Malfoy hadn't done much damage in return - he hadn't had the chance - but Ron still looked a bit worse for wear by the time they caught up with Hermione outside the bookshop. Of course, she noticed something was up right away.</p><p>"Why, Ronald," she said, peering up at his thunderous face from beneath two knitted eyebrows. "Why - pray tell - do you look as if you've been dragged through a hedge backwards. What exactly happened?"</p><p>"Got in a fight."</p><p>Hermione's eyes widened. She looked appalled. "With Harry?"</p><p>Harry grimaced. "Not me. Malfoy turned up. I couldn't stop him - your boyfriend's pretty fast when he wants to be."</p><p>She nodded, understanding dawning.</p><p>"Saw red, 'Mione." Ron's face was morphing into an abashed, if resolute, expression.</p><p>"Yes, well. I hope that got it out your system because I don't think we'll be allowed to just run up an punch every Slytherin we see once we get to Hogwarts, no matter our history. I mean, <em>obviously</em> we shouldn't be doing that <em>anyway..."</em></p><p>Harry considered their options. He put an arm around Ron's neck. "We <em>can</em> pull a few harmless pranks though, I reckon."</p><p>Ron's face lit up. "You reckon?"</p><p>Harry nodded.</p><p>"I've got to get to George's, he's got some wicked stuff that'd be <em>perfect,"</em> Ron said, perking up a bit.</p><p>"Great plan!" Harry clapped Ron on the back.</p><p>The pair chatted excitedly about the boundless opportunities for pranks the Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes had to offer, and the fact that without some dark plot or other to keep them occupied, there would be plenty of chances to put together some elaborate and humiliating tricks to sate at least something of their desire for revenge. It was silly, but Harry could see the conversation taking the edge off Ron's temper, so he encouraged him. Even Hermione cottoned on and joined in, suggesting a combination of the jelly legs jinx and a well-placed cream pie.</p><p>"Got the idea off a 'funniest clips' show." She winked at Harry.</p><p>Hagrid spent the whole time pretending not to hear anything.</p><p>By the time Molly and Ginny caught up with them, Ron was cheerful again. They'd quickly healed his hands so no-one would notice evidence of the altercation.</p><p>Hagrid sighed with relief at the sight of them. Harry got the distinct impression he was glad to hand off care of the three of them to another sensible adult. They were all of age, of course, but he could see why Hagrid still figured they needed supervising. The half-giant squeezed them into a breathless embrace once more before ambling away with a "cheerio."</p><p>They whizzed round Flourish and Blotts in record time - the queues just seemed to melt away in front of them, for some reason - and after stopping at the Weasleys' joke shop, they were headed back in the direction of the ice cream parlour to catch the floo home. Only then did Harry remember his conversation with Hagrid. The one before the Malfoy Incident.</p><p>"Um, I wonder. Could we go to The Magical Menagerie?"</p><p>"Of course dear," Molly replied. "Thinking of anything in particular?"</p><p>"Not sure. Just. I can't get an owl. Not yet anyway."</p><p>Tears welled in he eyes. "Oh no of course not, love. Yes, let's have a little look then. Pick out something that speaks to you."</p><p>They bundled in. The place was mostly empty of people, but stuffed to the brim with all manner of creatures. Harry deliberately didn't turn his head as a dopey looking barn owl with sad eyes hooted at him. He went over to the far wall and started perusing the terrariums and cages. He paused at a rather sweet looking tabby kitten, thought of Crookshanks and moved on. A rat didn't seem like a great idea either. He'd spend the whole time paranoid it'd turn into a Death Eater.</p><p>"What about a toad?" Hermione offered.</p><p>"I hardly think Harry wants a toad, 'Mione." Ron said.</p><p>She huffed. "Right, well perhaps a different sort of bird? A raven or-"</p><p>"No. No birds." Harry shook his head so fast his glasses slipped down his nose. He pushed them up with his finger. "I just want something small really. Easy to take care of. Doesn't need a lot of feeding..."</p><p>His eyes were drawn to a long, low tank in the corner. He crouched down. The label read:</p><p>
  <em>FOR SALE. Hog Nose. Female. Twenty-five inches but will grow to approx. forty-five inches in two to three years. Super Arctic Western Morph. Pre-owned. Ask about our discount, today!</em>
</p><p>"What's in there, Harry?" Ginny asked.</p><p>"Not sure..." Harry said peering into the gloom. There. Two jet black eyes looked back at him, unblinking. A snake. It had a flat, upturned nose - ah, Hog Nose, that made sense - and was ivory coloured with irregular grey and black splotches spaced out along its body. For a snake, it looked pretty darned cute. And it reminded him of someone or something familiar, though he couldn't quite put his finger on it.</p><p>"Hello," Harry said, quietly.</p><p>"You ssspeak." The snake edged forward from the hollow log where it had been resting.</p><p>"Yep. What's your name?"</p><p>"Hmm. My old mistressss called me Miss Piggy."</p><p>Harry snorted.</p><p>"Oh dear..."</p><p>"I alssso went by-" Here the snake hissed a string of unintelligible sounds, even to Harry's Parseltongue-attuned ear "-among my brood mates."</p><p>"Would you mind if I gave you a different name? That is if you'd like to come with me? I think me and my friends would struggle to remember your birth name."</p><p>"Come with you? Yesss, I'd like that very much. Thisss place is full of creaturesss that hoot and howl all night. I have not resssted well in sssome time."</p><p>"Brilliant." Harry stayed crouching for a moment, thinking. Then he marched over to the shopkeeper. He was a stooped man in a green apron.</p><p>"I'd like to take that one please." he pointed. "How much?"</p><p>"Will sir be requiring her enclosure and a package of care equipment such as basking lamp, pinkie mice and other such items?"</p><p>"Yes, please."</p><p>"Then that would come to, ah, let's see, forty two galleons and seven sickles."</p><p>He pulled a handful of coins out of his leather pouch. He had enough. Just. The shopkeep pocketed the money and set about dragging the vivarium out of the corner, as well as bagging up various bits and pieces, including a pack of frozen mice. Harry was glad he had experience feeding such things to Hedwig, though the sight of their little pink bodies still made him feel a little ill. By this time Ron, Hermione and the others had all gathered round the enclosure to take a look at Harry's new familiar.</p><p>"What you gonna call her?" Ginny enquired.</p><p>"Severina. Sev. Sevvy?"</p><p>Hermione's lip twitched. "Interesting choice."</p><p>"Yeah. Interesting's a word for it," Ron said, wryly. "If it escapes in the night and I find it in my bed I'm going to dangle you upside-down out the North tower in your underwear, mate."</p><p>"What?" Harry shrugged and glanced at Mrs Weasley. "Molly said to pick something that speaks to me."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. A Toast to New Beginnings</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Have you seen my copy of <em>Quivering Quills: A History of Magical Stationary?"</em></p><p>"I can't believe you're taking History of Magic this year," Harry said. "I've not seen it, by the way."</p><p>Ron shrugged. He'd caught the sun again in yesterday's Quidditch match - it was skins versus shirts - and winced as burned shoulders rubbed against his shirt. He crossed his red arms over his chest and held each opposite shoulder, as if trying to pat out two small fires.</p><p>"'S easy. If I can stay awake. I might sneak Pepper-up out the hospital wing or something. And Binns is doing a whole section on enchanted mechanical paraphernalia that might actually help with a project I'm working on at the shop."</p><p>It was evening, the night before they were due to catch the Hogwarts Express. The pair of them were packing their bags before dinner. Sort of. The small room, plastered once more in shiny, up-to-date <em>Chudley Cannons</em> posters (all signed!), looked like a bomb had gone off, scattering ink bottles, parchment, odd socks and - Harry noticed - an escaped gang of rogue chocolate frogs. Old ones, by the look of the greyish bloom on their chocolate backs. One had already met its demise by wriggling into a small hole in the mesh at the top of Severina's vivarium. She reported she was disappointed by the lack of 'gutsss.'</p><p>Needless to say, not much of anything was in either of they boys' battered old trunks, yet.</p><p>Harry swept an armful of sweet wrappers tied into little bows off his bedside table into the waste paper basket.</p><p>"You still gonna try and work there during the year?"</p><p>Now that they had learned of to Apparate - and Ron had spent the last few months practicing - they were rather hoping they could spend a bit of time outside of Hogwarts for a change. Hogsmeade trips were great and all, but the small village was nothing compared to the wonders of Diagon Alley, or the chance to pop by the Burrow for a home-cooked meal once in a while. It was Hermione who reckoned they would have a lot more freedom as eighth years, given that under ordinary circumstances they would all be off getting proper jobs and whatnot.</p><p>"It's a long way to Apparate, but I think I can do it in a few trips, yeah. I'd like to at least do the odd weekend, you know? Check in on George. And he needs the help, the place is always packed these days. Now it's run by a hero of the battle at Hogwarts. And George is useless at organising the inventory out back, you won't believe the mess he makes of the orders..." He flushed. "Sorry, boring subject. Shoptalk."</p><p>Harry chuckled. It was endearing really. Apart from chess and Quidditch, Ron never looked so animated as when he was talking about the <em>Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes.</em></p><p>"I don't know why you didn't just start working there full time you know. You clearly love it. And it's not like George expects you to have your N.E.W.T.s or anything."</p><p>"Mum was having none of it, mate. And like... I wanted to go back to Hogwarts, you know. Make up for lost time. Come away with a year of happy memories instead of the rubbish that keeps me up half the night. And I'd miss you guys, 'course."</p><p>"Yeah."</p><p>"Yeah."</p><p>They both stood in silence for a beat.</p><p>"Aha! There it is!" Ron exclaimed, diving for something under his orange quaffle-patterned duvet. He emerged wielding the History of Magic textbook and a grin.</p><p>Just then they heard Ginny call from downstairs. They both trundled down to find Andromeda Tonks in the hall, a bunch of flowers in one hand and a wriggling baby in the other. She wore a periwinkle dress and a light greyish-purple summer shawl. Someone had tied a bonnet around the baby's chin, who was clearly not pleased with the decision and was frowning and pawing at the bow with his fists.</p><p>"Come in, come in!" cried Arthur Weasley, holding a tea towel.</p><p>"Lovely of you to have us, Arthur, as ever," she replied, primly. "I don't suppose you have a vase? Ten minutes in the heat and these have already started to wilt."</p><p>"Of course." He took the flowers and disappeared into the kitchen.</p><p>"Eyyy, it's the big bruiser! Watch out!"</p><p>Ron leapt down the last few steps. He landed with a thud that caused sawdust to rain down from the ceiling. "Put 'er there!"</p><p>Harry laughed as his best friend put up his palms, letting little Teddy whack at his hands in delight.</p><p>"Pow pow! He'll make an Auror yet, just like 'is mum." Ron crouched down to tickle the child's belly, making out it was a devastating uppercut. "But not quick enough for me!"</p><p>Harry's godson shrieked and kicked his legs. Andromeda smiled a quick, pinched smile.</p><p>"You'll make sure your friend doesn't get my grandchild into any trouble?" she said as Harry approached.</p><p>"What, Ron?" It was hard to talk over the squealling.</p><p>Ron laughed, still tickling Teddy's sides. "Yeah what, me?"</p><p>Andromeda sighed. She held the baby out to Harry and plunked him in his arms. Ron came round to continue his wildly exaggerated battle with the child - all a cover, Harry noticed - for him to surreptitiously remove the ugly bonnet from the poor boy's head. Ron had a lot of experience with kids and seemed entirely comfortable around them in a way that Harry had never quite been able to master. He didn't speak emotionally unstable mini-human. Snakes were easier...</p><p>"Ronald, where is your mother? She has a firewhisky with my name on it, I believe."</p><p>"Kitchen. Prol'y."</p><p>She swept off. The woman was part of the Black family and though there wasn't much of a resemblance, something about the purposeful, austere march to the kitchen in pursuit of alcohol reminded Harry of his own godfather. And, weirdly, of Malfoy - did pure-bloods all attend the same posture and etiquette lessons? And then, from another angle, her daughter, Nymphadora. There it was again. That pang in his heart. He wondered if that would ever stop, or if he'd be a walking melancholic harp forever, his heart strings plucked <em>glissando</em> style by a nostalgic smell or sight or taste that reminded him of lost loved ones. Everything, everyone, seemed to have a past, like the connection of a silver thread of memory to the time before Voldemort... and to a time after.</p><p>As if sensing the grim turn of Harry's thoughts, Teddy grabbed at his glasses and had them in his mouth. Ron tutted and gently pried them off of him.</p><p>"Bit slobbery, but none the worse for wear," he said, giving them an insufficient wipe on the edge of his shirt before putting them back on Harry's nose before he could protest. Harry, rendered pretty much blind by the smudged lenses, started at Ginny's voice from his left.</p><p>"You <em>are</em> here to help, aren't you?"</p><p>The trio of boys followed her (after Harry had pawned his godson over to Ron and cleaned his glasses properly) into the dining room. George and Lee were putting up strings of daises, enchanted to twenty times their normal size, all around the room. Percy was blowing up the balloons that were left over from Harry's birthday party a month earlier. Hermione was putting doilies under all the plates, making each plate hover one by one with wandless magic. Yet more pastel bunting hung from the chandelier to all four corners of the ceiling.</p><p>Someone had spilled jasmine oil on the carpet, which, mingled with the heat, had drenched the room in a heady floral aroma that wasn't exactly unpleasant, but was a bit... overwhelming. Harry got the impression from the effort to make a big thing of their last night that Molly wasn't much looking forward to an empty nest.</p><p>"Pour the punch, Ron," Ginny instructed.</p><p>She took Teddy and put him in his high chair. He burbled conversationally. She gave him a giant daisy, which he then chewed with considerable interest. Harry felt rather sorry for it.</p><p>Looking around for something to do, he went over to Percy to help with the balloons. The fellow seemed half dead from blowing them all up by himself. He wheezed in greeting and flashed him a grateful smile. Harry did his best to spell off the 'Happy Birthday!' lettering but ended up with half the balloons reading, confusingly, 'Ha......ir...y!'.</p><p>Soon, the whole family - plus, well, the honorary extended family - of Weasleys were all seated round the table. The meal was a summer feast of barbecue and lamb chops and mint sauce and Greek salad with crumbly feta cheese. As usual, Molly had outdone herself.</p><p>Sat next to Andromeda, who was trying to get Teddy to eat solid foods by himself (a hopeless endeavour), Harry found he was enjoying getting to know the woman who he was starting to the think of as family. It was weird, but pleasant.</p><p>"I trained as a Healer, you know," she said. They'd been discussing what he was going to do after his last year. She winced as a small pot of peas was upended into the carpet.</p><p>"I never ended up practicing the art much. Not the done thing to have a job, among us pure-bloods, at the time. I took up nursing for a short while. Then I met Ted and one thing led to another. Never went back to it."</p><p>Harry remembered her healing Hagrid on the night when he and six other polyjuiced Harry Potters had fled from the Dursley's.</p><p>"Is it hard, healing magic?" he asked.</p><p>"Depends if you have the aptitude for it. Much like any discipline, it takes practice, naturally. It's an empathetic magic, meaning you really have to connect with your patient before you can perform the spells to full effect. And there are different areas of focus, of course: diagnostics, surgical magic, diseases and poisons, mental wellbeing, experimental...</p><p>"Come on my darling, one more bite of tomato for Nanny, please?"</p><p>Teddy pinched his lips between his gums.</p><p>Mrs Tonks, sensing defeat, handed him a rusk and sat back in her chair.</p><p>"There's a lot of pain in the job. You can imagine. But it has many rewards, as well. Every day's a challenge. Never boring, but the drama has a... routine. You can leave it behind. Most of the time.</p><p>"And there's every opportunity to develop your skills and dig into what drives you as a magic user. Where you draw your power from, how deep does that well run - you find yourself invested, not just in the work itself but in the value of it. Saving lives - I don't have to tell you - saving lives is exhilarating. How could it not be?"</p><p>He leaned forward, nearly putting his elbow in the gravy. "How do you become a Healer?"</p><p>She waved a hand. "It was so long ago they've undoubtedly changed the whole procedure by now. You'll have to check with the school what subjects you'll need. Transfigurations is likely. Maybe Arithmancy - I know I took it when I was a girl. Then there's junior and senior training placement at a teaching hospital for two years. Then you move on to a one-to-one mentorship with an experienced Mediwitch or wizard, if you pass the exams. They help you with your dissertation, which goes the round of board reviews and all that before you get your qualification."</p><p>She paused, thinking.</p><p>"The woman, Pomphrey is it? She might be able to point you in the right direction."</p><p>"Oh, ah... Um. Yes." Harry had never really thought about being anything other than an Auror before. He'd been dead set on it. But it was looking like Ron was a whole lot happier working at the shop with George and Hermione had recently said she wanted to go into academic research... Maybe it was time he re-evaluate his options as well?</p><p>"Thanks, Mrs Tonks. I'll definitely think about it."</p><p>"Call me Andromeda, dear. Or Dromeda."</p><p>"Rom-e-wah!" Teddy cried piercingly. He clearly had become displeased the conversation wasn't involving him in some way.</p><p>Then, in floated a set of chipped crystal bowls full of frozen dessert, which started a whole new chorus of appreciative munching and clinking of cutlery against glass.</p><p>Once they'd finished their ice cream, the teenagers left the nattering adults and baby Teddy downstairs and all piled into Ron and Harry's room, which <em>somehow</em> didn't look any better than when they'd left it. They shoved the half empty trunks under the beds and pushed piles of clothes and books onto the floor. Hermione fussed at the state of the place but admitted even she was too full to care. George produced a small flask of Dragon Barrel Brandy. They shared it round.</p><p>"To the eighth years - may they fail so badly they repeat a year every year and never have to work a day in their lives," toasted Lee Jordan.</p><p>Ron flipped him the bird.</p><p>"To absolutely hammering every other house into the dust and winning the Quidditch cup without any stupid interruptions!" Ginny said with fervour on her turn.</p><p>"Hear hear!"</p><p>Ron took the flask next. He held it between his teeth, put his arms around both Harry and Hermione and tipped his head back. Hermione plucked the flask from his lips and he crowed, "To never going camping again!"</p><p>He shook them both from side to side. Harry laughed so hard his belly ached.</p><p>"I second that! And to a year of actual learning - in class - without half my brain taken up by figuring out some stupid evil plot."</p><p>Ron turned to Harry after Hermione's toast. "Wait, this whole time she was only using <em>half her brain?"</em></p><p>"Oh Merlin, what have we unleashed?" he stage-whispered back.</p><p>"You'll have to wait and see," Hermione trilled, passing him the brandy across Ron's chest. "This stuff doesn't half burn."</p><p>He thought for a minute. He thought, weirdly, about how Andromeda Tonks walked.</p><p>"To long memories and new beginnings."</p><p>The brandy hit in a wash of alcoholic heat before dissipating into warm notes of honey and spiced apple. The group around him nodded as a unit.</p><p>After a few hours of casual banter, and then more hours spent packing late into the evening, Harry and Ron said goodnight to Hermione before falling asleep on their respective beds. Harry barely even had time for his head to hit the pillow before he was out like a light.</p><p>The next morning they were up bright and early and the atmosphere in the Burrow was all at once tense and joyful, tearful and chaotic. Molly was, predictably, a wreck. Arthur forced her to sit and not stir a muscle as the school-goers sorted themselves out in a last-minute haphazard way that had her twitching with the urge to jump in and take over. However, she was trapped under a tray of tea and biscuits on her lap, which she consumed while sobbing into a handkerchief and pointing at shoes and other stuff people had misplaced.</p><p>"Whatsss thisss fusss?" grumbled Severina, emerging from her log as Harry and Ron awkwardly carried her vivarium downstairs.</p><p>"We're going to Hogwarts," Harry replied. Ron yelped and the box tipped by about a foot before he recovered.</p><p>"Warn me when you're going to that, mate," he said. "That sound does something to me and just-" He shuddered. "Gives me the willies."</p><p>"Sorry."</p><p>"I hope you'll put me down sssoon," the snake said, having arched her spine in reaction to the sudden earthquake in her home.</p><p>"Ron?"</p><p>"Yeah, I'm fine, go for it - yep!" Then to himself: "Speak to the ruddy snake like it's a normal thing to do; not going to freak anyone out at <em>all</em> when we get to the dorms. <em>Totally normal stuff.</em>"</p><p>Harry rolled his eyes. "Sev, I promise, it'll be over soon. We just need to catch the Express and we'll be at the castle by the end of the day. You'll be able to sleep on the train."</p><p>"Good," she replied. Her eyes narrowed. "Don't let anyone drop me."</p><p>"I won't."</p><p>The plan was to use a Portkey (an old boot) to get them all to the platform. George wasn't coming as he had the shop to see to, and Percy and Arthur said their goodbyes before they Apparated to the Ministry. Lee Jordan had also left for work, but not before handing Ron a bag branded with the <em>Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes</em> logo and saying he'd picked out a few "special" items for the school year when George wasn't looking.</p><p>Molly hugged them all at the door. Each hug lasted longer than the last. Harry had to pat her back to let go after he counted at least five minutes. His shoulder felt rather damp through his school robes. They had all decided to change before they got on the train.</p><p>"Oh good luck, my loves. You won't get into any trouble this year, will you? Or at least if you do get into trouble you'll keep Ginerva out of it." she said, hiccupping and blowing her nose wetly.</p><p>Once they were out onto the somewhat crispy lawn, Hermione put the Portkey on top of the pile of trunks, which they'd lashed together for the journey.</p><p>"Make sure you have a tight grip of everything," she instructed the four of them. Judging from the ensuing (brief, violent, whispered) argument, Ron had taken this as an invitation to grope her from behind.</p><p>Out the corner of his eye, Harry spotted Ginny as she mimed puking into her cauldron.</p><p>"<em>Anyway.</em> As I was saying, hold onto your stuff and touch the Portkey. It's due to go off in five minutes."</p><p>Just then Ron paled. "Forgot Pig!"</p><p>"Oh for Merlin's sake. Hurry up!"</p><p>Ron tripped over a bag, leapt forward and dashed back towards the Burrow. Molly stood aside on the porch, hands on hips and looking much more like the fearsome Weasley matriarch that Harry remembered.</p><p>"Ronald Bilius Weasley, how on earth could you forget that poor bird?" They could hear her as she started to shout into the house. "If nobody's moved it, it'll still be in the kitchen! No, the kitchen! Yes I'm sure!"</p><p>Ron emerged holding the cage in one hand. An owl the size of a fluffy snitch bounced around inside it, shrieking.</p><p>"Thanks mum, love you! Bye!" he said kissing her cheek before streaking across the garden towards Harry, Ginny and Hermione.</p><p>"Stupid little feathery git." He wedged himself in between Harry and Hermione.</p><p>"One minute," Hermione warned.</p><p>They all crowded in to touch the old boot. Harry had taken Severina out and wrapped her around his neck, just in case holding the vivarium between his shins didn't work out as planned. He had a bag slung over one shoulder, another two sacks in his right hand and his cauldron dangling from his elbow. His Firebolt was jammed under his armpit. The rest of the group were in a similar predicament, except Hermione who still had her seemingly bottomless beaded handbag. Of the four of them, she appeared the least ruffled. She had one hand on the stack of trunks and the other firmly placed on the Portkey, which she had bewitched herself after reading about it the art in Josinda Erving's <em>Portkeys: Priority Travel and Ten Ways Out of a Pinch</em> and Arthur had got her a permission slip.</p><p>Then, the familiar wrenching at the naval started, and Harry felt his stomach flop as the Portkey activated. He screwed his eyes shut and whispered soothingly to the snake that was constricting his neck in fright.</p><p>With a clatter of dropped objects, they appeared in a roped off area on platform 9¾. Ginny looked a bit green, like she might actually throw up in her cauldron this time.</p><p>"Come along now, hurry hurry, the next group is due in two minutes." A uniformed official ushered them out of the cordoned-off square. Hermione levitated their trunks, with some effort, to follow them and Harry nudged his snake's vivarium along with his knees. They collapsed onto the platform, all needing a moment to let the nausea settle. Beside them the Hogwarts Express loomed and spat steam like a great black dragon.</p><p>"I did not like that," hissed Severina in Harry's ear. He felt her tongue flick against his earlobe.</p><p>"Sorry. Train next. And once we're in the dorms you won't have to move again for months."</p><p>"I will take, as compensssation... the snacking bird."</p><p>Harry laughed as she slid over his shoulder towards Pigwideon's cage.</p><p>"That's not a snack!" He gently scooped her from his neck and put her back inside her enclosure, where she disappeared from sight under her log.</p><p>Ron noticed the exchange and even though he didn't understand Parseltongue he cottoned on.</p><p>"She can 'ave 'im. More good he'll do her than me, I expect. Look at the idiot..."</p><p>It was true the bird had responded to the journey by bouncing even more violently around its cage and emitting piercing shrieks at passers by.</p><p>"Hermione! Ginny!" There was a shout and Harry glanced up to see Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas pushing their trolleys towards them.</p><p>Dean flashed Ginny a quick grin then stared pointedly at the wall as he caught sight of Harry. He felt the lion in his chest grumble, but not stir from its resting place. Things really <em>had</em> changed. Go figure.</p><p>"Hey Dean, good to see you," he said, to put the boy at ease. Dean grinned and waved.</p><p>"Yeah, good summer?"</p><p>Before he could answer, Seamus came forward to gave Hermione a quick hug. He patted Ron on the back. "Weasley, good to see you. Looking good, mate. 'Cept... been hexed pink is it? Spat with the missus?"</p><p>"Shut up, Fin. It's sunburn," Ron said. He cocked his head. "What's Luna got on her feet?"</p><p>Harry peered round him. Sure enough Luna Lovegood was traipsing down the platform towards them. Her hair was bundled on her head in a teased-out Beehive and she wore two large jewelled strawberries in her ears. On her feet were a pair of extremely fluffy slippers with claws poking through the fur at the front.</p><p>"Oh hello, Harry," she said looking directly at Ron.</p><p>Ron's brow furrowed. "Uhh, hi?"</p><p>"Your aura is different today, you know."</p><p>"I bet." Behind him, Harry snickered into his sleeve.</p><p>"It's probably because of the Rule of Three. Jupiter's moons have a way of influencing the auras of young men at this time of the month, and they're particularly close all year in fact. Expect you'll need to change your whole perspective on well, this and that." She waved. "Love. Life. The Universe. It's all connected."</p><p>"Uhh. Right. Anyway, Harry's here."</p><p>He sidestepped and Harry nodded, trying to remember how to keep his face straight.</p><p>"Oh yes. Of course. Silly me."</p><p>"I've got a new familiar, do you want to meet her?" Harry asked for something to say. Luna was in one of her dreamier moods.</p><p>"I'd love to Harry. I can sense you're already fast friends. The Wrackspurts are quite excited."</p><p>After he'd showed her Severina, they put their luggage in the baggage compartment, dropped off the animals and set about finding any free compartments.</p><p>"Were we ever that small?" Ron muttered as a first year bumped into his back, jumped and ran off.</p><p>"That you, Ron?" A door slid open. Neville Longbottom was sat on the plush velvet bench. He looked much too tall for the small compartment even on his own, and Harry was shocked to see how different he appeared from the last time he'd seen him. Before, he'd been rather battered and bruised from fighting in Dumbledore's Army. Now that he was all healed up, it was hard not to notice... <em>since when had Neville Longbottom become good-looking?</em></p><p>"I wasn't sure who all was coming by train. I think a bunch of the eighth years are Apparating to Hogsmeade and walking up. Glad I'm not here by myself."</p><p>"We figured we'd take the train - be nice to have a quiet trip for once!" said Ron.</p><p>Hermione, Harry and Ron piled in. Seamus, Dean, Luna and Ginny went off to find another compartment - much to Dean's surprise. Before she left, Ginny leaned in and whispered so only Harry could hear.</p><p>"I might take another bite of that." His eyes nearly popped out his head. "Rip the plaster - is that the Muggle phrase? - off quick, I think," she continued, gesturing inside the compartment with her eyes. "I'd rather we let them all know we're not an item anymore sooner than later." With that she marched off. Harry wondered how quickly the rumour mill could spin that news into a web of gossip so thick Aragog could've used it to make his nest.</p><p>"Ginny not staying?" Neville asked. Harry groaned internally. Yes. Best get it over with.</p><p>"We broke up over the summer," he said, keeping his tone light. Casual.</p><p>"Oh!" Neville spun to Ron and Hermione. Ron had his head in the bag Lee Jordan had given him and was rifling through its contents with his sleeves rolled up. He looked at Neville.</p><p>"Don't ask me. He's not said a word about it. They're not fighting or anything. It's massively weird. All I know is Ginny said 'You really don't want to know' and then threatened to hex my balls off if I talked about it and that's kinda enough for me, you know? I mean, I know Harry's my best mate, but I don't wanna pry too deep into the love life of my own sister, no offence."</p><p>Harry smiled at him. Ron had tried hard to tamp down his curiosity after the initial bombardment of questions when they'd broke the news in July. He'd seen Harry's discomfort - it was radiating off him in a sizable radius - and in the end left it at one, final question: "You don't hate each other do you? Cause Gin, Harry's family and there's no way that's going to change." It was a good memory. <em>Harry's family...</em></p><p>Hermione flicked open a book and stuck her nose in it, saying nothing. Harry felt a wave of warmth towards his best friends.</p><p>He bumped shoulders with Neville to dislodge his bemused expression. "I'm all good. She's all good. It was a good relationship. We just weren't meant to be. No matter what the <em>The Prophet</em> prints."</p><p>Neville blinked at him, then shrugged and launched into talking about his holiday in Peru over the summer and how his grandmother had bought him the fantastically colourful patterned jumper he was wearing, in spite of the heat. Harry sat back, and for once, enjoyed an entirely uneventful journey to Hogwarts.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Eighth Year: Day One</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It had been announced on the train that their bags and familiars would be brought to the castle separately. So, they were walking towards the carriages, unburdened.</p><p>As they came into view, Hermione gasped.</p><p>"Ooh Harry. I expected as much but... I can see them now, too."</p><p>Harry flashed Hermione a sad smile, both of them knowing the only reason she could was the same reason he had seen them the year after Sirius' death.</p><p>Ron had a different reaction.</p><p>"Bloody hellfire!" he exclaimed. He fell back and clutched at the front of Harry's robes. "What's the - What tha- Harry there are fucking monsters pulling the carriages!"</p><p>"<em>Honestly,"</em> huffed Hermione. "Did neither of you EVER read <em>Hogwarts: A History</em>?" (Harry couldn't help thinking he was an innocent party here.)</p><p>"Oh h-here we go."</p><p>"They're the Thestrals," Harry said, trying to focus on a freckled face that was much too close. "Remember, Ron? Bill and Fleur were riding one when you were all polyjuiced?"</p><p>"It was bloody invisible then. And nobody thought to tell me they looked, well, they looked like <em>that,"</em> Ron said, his fist still gripping Harry's collar. Harry pried the larger boy off with some difficulty. He shuffled to stand slightly behind him, crouching so they were the same height and putting both hands on Harry's right shoulder.</p><p>"Sorry, Harry. So, this is Another Thing I'm <em>meant</em> to know about, is it?" He glared accusingly at Hermione.</p><p>Hermione crossed her arms. "Well frankly - yes, Ronald."</p><p>He mimicked her voice in falsetto. "Yes Ronald, you're a pureblood wizard and ought to know every single thing about the wizarding world through some kind of osmosis, not like there's literally millions of creatures and traditions and fecking all sorts from thousands of years of history stretching back beyond the time of Merlin. OH YES obvious now I think about it, having massive bat-horses that look like a teenage Dementor's Christmas present from Father, that's a completely normal thing for a school to do when there are yummy bite-sized kids running around."</p><p>"Don't be so childish."</p><p>"I'm the main meal, Hermione! I swear that one's eying me up."</p><p>The Thestral's blank glittering eyes could have been looking at anything, honestly. It stamped its foot and gently stretched its black leathery wings as if rolling its shoulders in impatience.</p><p>"I'm going to find Ginny and Luna," said Hermione. "I'll ride with them, <em>if you don't mind.</em>" She said the last bit with a fake low voice. She stormed off, her beaded bag swinging from her wrist.</p><p>The pair of them watched her retreating back. Harry sighed.</p><p>"She's not wrong, you know."</p><p>"Yeah well, that doesn't mean she's right. Do we really have to ride in the carriage?"</p><p>Neville, who had been staying quiet a few feet behind them, piped up. "You have every year since second year, honest, Ron. They're not so bad once you get to know them. Besides, I think everyone's getting used to the idea now."</p><p>"What do you mean?"</p><p>Neville gestured around them. Sure enough, half the school seemed to be having the same conversation they'd just had. Harry spotted a few girls crying in a huddle. The worst bit was seeing the young ones, the ones that we just twelve or thirteen, react to the Thestrals. They really were incredibly small. Incredibly innocent. That so many children had seen someone die in the last year made him shiver. Still, most of the students were allowing themselves to be ushered into the carriages by stiff looking prefects.</p><p>He pushed his glassed up his nose and, grimacing sympathetically at Ron, bundled himself into the carriage. After a pause, Ron followed, tentative, as if entering a lion's den. Harry felt his shoulders relax as soon as they were inside. Neville crowded in after them.</p><p>"Room for one more?" The voice was at once familiar and not. It was Dennis Creevey - there goes those heart strings again, <em>twang</em>, fuck, ouch - who'd clearly had a growth spurt over the summer. His voice had dropped an octave and he was even sporting a (patchy) beard. He had a smile that didn't reach his eyes. There was a camera around his neck.</p><p>"Sure!" Harry said, too loudly.</p><p>Dennis squeezed through the carriage door and Neville made room for him.</p><p>"Wasn't sure if I'd see you guys again. to be honest." The carriage rumbled into motion. Ron tensed. He continued by saying, "I'm having to repeat a year - I guess you are, too, but I think they're doing it a bit different, right? The eighth year thing? Sounds like a lot of you are returning if they're bothering to do that. Us Muggleborns are just mucked in with the lower years - not everyone's come back, of course, so there's room at a squeeze, I 'spose. Be weird going to class with the year below, though. Feels like remedials or something - like we've been held back cause we're thick and not cause we were banned from Hogwarts for a whole year. They all look way younger than I remember. Everything's changed, hasn't it?"</p><p>Harry nodded at the barrage of words.</p><p>"But it's also the same," Dennis went on. "Like in a way it's never been a normal year for me anyway, 'cause my first year was the Triwizard tournament and then it all just started to go topsy-turvy from there, didn't it? Then again I guess you guys have <em>never</em> had a normal year at school. I hope its normal. I've had enough of exciting, I think." His hand reached unconsciously towards the camera at his throat. Harry saw Neville's face close in on itself. He remembered when they'd stumbled on him and Oliver Wood, Colin Creevey's body dangling limply in their arms...</p><p>"Are you looking forward to it? This year?" Dennis asked him.</p><p>"Oh. Um. Yes. I think you've nailed it to be honest. I just want one ordinary year at Hogwarts. I know it's daft but..."</p><p>Ron picked up his sentence. "But it's like reclaiming the place, you know? After Death Eaters took over and half the buildings were wrecked. It's ours now. Even if only for one more year."</p><p>Neville nodded vigorously.</p><p>The rest of the journey turned to lighter topics. The new edition range of chocolate frogs had come out and there were different flavours: mint chocolate, orange and caramel. The caramel was a bit fishy. Hagrid was running Care of Magical Creatures again and he'd finally found a textbook for them all to buy that didn't bite. Apparently there was a pact - Dennis' doing - among a group of third and fourth years to pretend Harry wasn't a celebrity who had killed You-Know-Who, but was just another student. They'd sworn, on parchment, to no pictures, no staring and no gossiping. Harry thought this was rather sweet, but doubted the trend would take off. Especially when the news about him and Ginny spread round the castle. Hogwarts students love a rumour. Or twenty. He gave Dennis his enthusiastic approval for the idea, nevertheless.</p><p>When they arrived, they were met with the sight of Headmistress McGonagall standing austerely outside the Great Hall. Harry went to move past her, anticipating she was there to greet the first years, but she stopped him with a quick hand gesture.</p><p>"Eighth years, please!" she called. "Can I have all the eighth year students line up here, if you please. Weasley. Longbottom. Potter." Her eyes twinkled wickedly.</p><p>Harry grinned. Why did this feel like a game? Why did they all seem like actors pretending to be teachers and students when really they were bound by so many events that it was hard not to think of one another as... comrades? He relished the feeling. It was mad, to be back. Wonderful and crazy and... it was like visiting the house you grew up in to find the new owners have changed the curtains and the furniture and painted the walls. Not the same. But that was ok. He could handle not the same. It was still his home, in some way. And it always would be.</p><p>"To never going camping again," whispered Ron, bending towards his ear. He was clearly in a similar head-space.</p><p>"Here here."</p><p>They lined up in front of the tall witch. She wore a tartan green, blue and black shawl draped over one shoulder, with a matching ribbon pinned to her hat. She had her hands clasped in front of her.</p><p>To the right, Harry saw a teacher he didn't recognise calling out a similar message for the first years, who were doing their best to stand in two straight lines while also not falling over backwards in wonder. They looked half swamped in their robes, half swamped, in fact, in the grand stone hall with its guttering yellow lamps, creaking staircases and towering portraits and, far above, giant slit windows that let in the moonlight.</p><p>More people were piling in around them - Dean and Seamus, Luna and Hermione (who was rather pointedly talking to Luna about her recent one-eighty on the subject of Divination, until Luna split away to enter the Great Hall with Ginny). And then a whole host of familiar faces from the DA days, the Patil twins, Ernie Macmillan and Justin Finch-Fletchley, Anthony Goldstein, Terry Boot, Hannah Abbot and Susan Bones, all came up to say hello. Between the hugs and the laughter Harry was pretty sure he could live forever off the warm, fuzzy high of seeing so many of his friends gathered in one place, with no enemy to fight, no battle to win, no...</p><p>"Malfoy alert," Hermione dipped in beside Harry. She side-eyed Ron. "He won't go off on him again, will he?"</p><p>Harry looked around and spotted a platinum blonde head, several feet away from the other eighth years. He was alone, face impassive. Thankfully, Ron was looking in the opposite direction.</p><p>"Don't think so. Between the bag Lee Jordan gave him and the stuff he picked up from George's, I think he'll wait for, what is it? The 'opportune moment'."</p><p>She sighed and swept the bush of her mousey brown hair back from her face with two hands. "I wish he would just ignore him, but it beats the caveman with a club approach I grant you."</p><p>The doors to the Great Hall opened, letting in a flood of light and noise. The mysterious new teacher, an Asian woman with sleek black hair, led the first years into the Hall. After they'd filed in, the doors closed. In the ensuing silence, McGonagall clapped her hands.</p><p>"Now, everyone. You'll be able to join your schoolmates in just a few minutes but I wanted a few words with you before we get started."</p><p>She paused, laughed and buried her face in her hands in a very un-McGonagall-like manner. "Oh I feel like <em>I've</em> got first year jitters," she joked. The teenagers who'd fought alongside her only months before laughed, too. It was weird. It was nice. She composed herself. "I suppose in a way I have. You'll have to forgive me, it's been a rather trying summer and the school year's not yet begun - but already I fear this job has aged me. Finnigan, not a word."</p><p>The Irish boy closed his mouth.</p><p>"I think I'm not the first among you to say it I'm sure, but may I be the first to state in an official sense, as it were, it is very, <em>very</em> good to see you all here again. Under much happier circumstances. I expect I'll repeat myself in a few moments for the whole school, covering some of these points. However, many of you have a particular history of defending this school against the forces of darkness, each in your own capacities. I think I owe you to speak directly in this smaller setting.</p><p>"Now. We have known each other for a long time. Every one of you has my personal, lifelong gratitude for your bravery and resilience. The fact that you stand here today shows, most of all, that you have hope. Hope that we can rebuild what we lost, that we can reclaim what was stolen and that we can dismantle beliefs and ideologies that once tore us apart and lost us so many friends and family members."</p><p>She sniffled.</p><p>"We don't have a full roster for the year, but the twenty-seven of you returning students are more than our dorms can hold, given we have returning Muggleborn students plus the new years coming in. Not to mention you all have already demonstrated certain skills outside of school, for which you have been awarded your Defence Against the Dark Arts N.E.W.T.; half of you have a year of some sort of teaching, even if it wasn't up to the <em>usual</em> standard - frankly, you may have to unlearn a few things; half of you have no schoolwork from the last year at all and well, there's nothing quite like a war to put a few things into perspective, is there?</p><p>"In fact, I'm pleased to announce that Hogwarts is remaining open for an extra year from this year forward. The final year for yourselves will allow you to complete your N.E.W.T.s, of course. Thereafter, we will offer an optional eighth year for subsequent years, intended for more specialised classes dedicated entirely to student-led learning, with no final exams. The idea being that students get a better chance to find their passions beyond the core classes we offer. A better chance to learn about themselves, as well.</p><p>"We will endeavour to ensure you all don't miss out on these opportunities afforded by this change by providing, as part of your N.E.W.T. study, the chance to engage in specialised subjects either as an extra-curricular part-time study, or as a examinable subject. There will be a booklet describing your options handed out at the tables. So in a sense you will be the transitional year, a hybrid of new and old approaches - fitting, yes?"</p><p>The group of eighth years all looked at one another and some whispering broke out towards the back. Hermione frowned.</p><p>"Headmistress McGonagall? Where will we stay, then? If the House dorms are full?"</p><p>This question caused a wave of much louder whispering.</p><p>From inside the Great Hall, sporadic cheers could be heard as the Sorting Hat finished its song and began examining the minds of first years.</p><p>"Ah yes, Miss Granger. This has been discussed among the staff. At length. It has been decided the eighth year will be representative of our times. During the war, the best of ourselves were demonstrated only when we came together and worked as one against a common enemy. As such, you will form a new House, the first of its kind, bringing into one House the final year students from Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin, shedding old affiliations and forming anew under one banner."</p><p>"WHAT?!" exclaimed Justin Finch-Fletchley, the loudest among a throng of shouting teenagers:</p><p>"You can't be serious, Miss-"</p><p>"With the Slytherins-"</p><p>"With the <em>Hufflepuffs</em>-"</p><p>"I will not ask for silence!"</p><p>She got it anyway.</p><p>"Ahem. Now I understand that you have strong affiliations with your old Houses" - winces from half the room - "however, you more than most have felt the effects of division. We must put collaboration and mutual understanding at the heart of our mission moving forward.</p><p>"It is the fault of the school, for which I am sorry, that we have seeded the rifts that grew to chasms among our young people. What started as merely administrative sorting of young people into suitable accommodation became an opportunity for enjoying like-minded friends and friendly competition, which in turn became bitter rivalry and, I think you'll agree, a mechanic of <em>identity</em>."</p><p>She flourished her wand and drew in coloured sparkles in the air, each of the four coats of arms. With a sweep she encircled them in gold.</p><p>"You are, each of you, exactly the same person you were when you were eleven, and quite entirely a different person - both, at once. You are not a sum of traits, but a realised adult person. You are always growing, always changing and always learning. We must acknowledge that fact, and we must heal the broken bonds between you. You have already done much of the work. I see many of you standing shoulder to shoulder." Her eyes flicked to the group of Slytherins huddled together at the back. To Draco Malfoy, separate, looking bored.</p><p>"And so you will form a new House. You will embrace change boldly, my lions. You will find strong allies, Slytherins. You will forge new friendships, Hufflepuffs. You will create new traditions, Ravenclaws."</p><p>She waved her wand through the shimmering image, scattering the particles like glitter. She drew a new shape. A banner, greenish blue, with a dark purple inlay. Soaring across the turquoise field was a Phoenix of red, orange and yellow, flecked gold and silver in the eyes and the tips of the wings.</p><p>"Welcome. Welcome to House Dumbledore."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. One House</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>After a tense question and answer session that left everyone unsatisfied, they entered the Great Hall in a daze. Ron took one long look at the room and turned like a hapless puppy to Harry on one side and Hermione on the other (she seemed to have forgiven his earlier outburst in lieu of pondering McGonagall's announcements, Harry noticed).</p><p>"You're seeing what I'm seeing, right?"</p><p>The enchanted ceiling, the milling House ghosts, the long tables, the hubbub of student chatter, the row of teachers at the staff table - these all looked much the same. The reconstruction team had done well. Barring one important difference. Directly in front of them was another, shorter, table, laid horizontally in parallel to the teacher's own seating arrangement on the other side of the hall. Above it, as was the case above all four of the House tables for the occasion, were tapestries denoting the House colours. Dumbledore House. The place settings were purple and turquoise, with silver cutlery and goblets, amber napkins and thick ivory candles.</p><p>"They want us to eat together. Go to class together. AND sleep together." Justin Finch-Fletchley wasn't taking the news well.</p><p>"I don't reckon they want us to sleep together," Ernie Macmillan joked, but his heart wasn't in it.</p><p>"You know what I mean. Dorms. I know she said we could choose our roommates but still! We have to share a Common Room."</p><p>McGonagall had said that those dorm rooms must still be split along gender lines and there was to be no 'funny business.' They'd been encouraged to mix the Houses. It was the Wild West. No Rule of Law. Chaos. By the time she'd finished explaining everything Harry had started to feel that perhaps they <em>were not</em> comrades in arms after all...</p><p>"It won't be so bad will it?" Hermione said. "It's not like <em>we</em> don't all get along. In fact, it'll be a bit like the DA won't it - all of us together again."</p><p>"Yeah, that's not the problem."</p><p>They all knew what the problem was. The problem was staring them in the face. Fewer Slytherins had returned than the other Houses, as was expected. Most of them were here by decree, a stipulation of their return to the wizarding world after the trials. Apart from this stipulation, they were for all intents and purposes... innocent. Ron had called this result 'bullshit' and Harry was hard-pressed to disagree. Nevertheless, here they were. Pansy Parkinson. Blaise Zabini. Theodore Nott. Daphne Greengrass. And, of course, Draco Malfoy. Of all of them, the result of his trial had been the biggest surprise. Harry remembered how the mood of the room had turned when he testified that Malfoy hadn't turned him in to Voldemort, despite seeing through his facial disfigurement... was him being here his fault, then?</p><p>Up ahead, McGonagall had reached the end of the Great Hall and stood at the podium. She cleared her throat and the hustle and bustle quietened to a murmur.</p><p>"I would ask you to all be seated, please."</p><p>No-one was moving, so Harry took the initiative and sat on the left hand side. Ron and Hermione sat beside him, and the others arranged themselves so there was a gap between their group and the Slytherins. Ex-Slytherins. They bunched together on the right. Malfoy sat on the end initially, but Harry noticed Parkinson deliberately join him, mouthing 'hello' as she did so. He wondered what the dynamics were there - who was in and who was out? That mattered to Slytherins, didn't it? Were there even enough of them to worry about that sort of thing anymore? With half of them either dead or in the run, it was hard to imagine they'd returned with quite the same attitudes from when they'd left. Certainly they had been mute so far. Their cards held close to their chests, maybe. Or... could they be planning something? He shook himself. Surely the time for plotting and scheming was past...</p><p>McGonagall gave an introductory speech that was something of a pared down version of what she had said before, except she spent some time congratulating the first years, very deliberately and emphatically welcoming returning Muggleborns, and explaining the usual rules about the Forbidden Forest. She then moved on to announcements.</p><p>"I'm pleased to announce that we have a new House of eighth year students, as you will have seen. Dumbledore House! Oh, now I see you all from afar we need to do something about that..."</p><p>And with a flick of her wand, she turned all of their school ties greenish-blue with thin purple and amber stripes and bolder silver bands. Ron yelped and buried his head in Hermione's shoulder. She patted his back.</p><p>"That woman is a menace," Ron muttered from amongst a cloud of curls. "She will hex my Gryffindor scarf over my dead body."</p><p>McGonagall explained the future of the eighth year system as she had previously. The Great Hall erupted into a low muttering, which she allowed for a few moments. She then sighed, the line of her mouth grim.</p><p>"We have lost many distinguished members of our staff these last few years. Albus Dumbledore, my friend, mentor and the rather large shoes I must now fill as Headmistress of Hogwarts. Severus Snape, an accomplished Potions master and hero. Charity Burbage, a woman before her time, an advocate for unity and professor of Muggle Studies. And though he was only with us for a short time, Remus Lupin, a beloved man who taught us all the true meaning of facing our fears.</p><p>"We shall remember them, and honour them by keeping their passions alive. In light of this, I would like to announce several new members of staff. May I introduce you to Natalie Tang, our new Potions professor and Head of Slytherin House. She was previously a teacher at Durmstrang."</p><p>The room erupted in applause. The woman stood and bowed gracefully. With her black hair and her black robes, Harry wondered for a moment if all Potions professors were cut from the same cloth... but then she flashed a peace sign, gave a jaunty wave and mimed a playful 'hiya' at the hall, before sitting down. Maybe not then.</p><p>"And professor Sonia Hadley, who will be taking the post of teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts, as well as filling in for me as Head of Gryffindor. She is an experienced foreign aid Auror, working in the Americas until recently in the running of the junior academies over there."</p><p>More applause. This woman was older, tough-looking with a long nose and a squashed, wide-brimmed hat. She looked like she was the type of person that, if duelling by wands didn't work out, she'd toss the magic and move to hand-to-hand combat without giving it a second thought.</p><p>"Taking my place in the Transfiguration department, we have two professors who will be job sharing the role. Mr Rasheed Khatri and Dr Diya Khatri."</p><p>Two doves flew from the ceiling and transformed into a middle-aged Indian couple. They took their seats, nodding and smiling as the students whooped and clapped.</p><p>"Finally, we have Bastian Collins, for Muggle Studies. He will also be running weekly workshops with professor Trelawney on philosophical, psychological and humanitarian subjects, which you will be asked to attend by invitation in mixed groups.</p><p>"With that all out of the way - let's toast to a new year at Hogwarts. Cheers!"</p><p>Suddenly the tables were groaning with food and the goblets were filled to the brim.</p><p>"That. That is what I'm talking about," Ron said, reaching for a chicken drumstick with one hand and a skewered kebab with the other. He took a bite out of each and closed his eyes in ecstasy. "At least some things haven't changed," he sighed.</p><p>Harry and Hermione laughed and launched themselves at the platters as well. Ever since the months of near starvation in the last year, the trio had become <em>very</em> appreciative of a good meal.</p><p>Once they had eaten and drunk enough to feed a small army - which, in a way, was an apt analogy - the dishes disappeared and were replaced with booklets detailing their class and extra-curricular options as eighth years. They were all to have one-to-one meetings with designated professors the next day, who would provide mentorship on the subject and career choices. They flicked through the books. Chattering flitted up and down the table.</p><p>"It definitely is bananas we have to write an essay on our first day," Harry was busy commiserating with Ron, a half hour or so later. The request was for twelve inches of parchment on the topic of personal ambitions, which was to be written after their mentor meeting for the following week. Hermione had already whipped out a notebook and was jotting down her thoughts, 'just to get them in order.'</p><p>"In a weird way, I forgot coming back here would mean things like classes and homework and stuff."</p><p>"Yeah."</p><p>"Thought'd just be all the good things. Like Quidditch - aw heck, do we even get to play Quidditch? Will they let us play on our team?"</p><p>Harry shoved his hand through his hair so it stuck out at all angles from his head. Quidditch! It was a damn good question. He resolved to ask... someone, as soon as possible. Madam Hooch had already left the staff table, annoyingly. <em>They've got to let me play, right?</em></p><p>The new Muggle Studies professor - Collins - came over. He was a slight man with thinning blonde hair. One of his trouser legs was purple while the other was red and green stripes. He wore a tan shirt with a bow tie. His voice was high and melodic.</p><p>"Right, chaps and chapettes. I'm here to show you to your new dormitory. If you'll all please follow me?"</p><p>The groups walked after him as he led them through the castle. By habit, and perhaps in reaction to their current predicament, they had segregated themselves into groups of Gryffindors, Slytherins, Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws. He took them up the stairs - naturally, they had to pause as a staircase decided to move at just the wrong time - and they carried on up to the fourth floor past the study area.</p><p>Harry frowned. It was a familiar route. Just ahead was the disused classroom that had once housed the Mirror of Erised for a brief time. They were heading straight for the entrance.</p><p>But... no, the whole end of the corridor was completely different.</p><p>All along one side was a giant mural depicting the battle of Hogwarts, so detailed and minute that the tiny figures were nearly impossible to make out. Harry was glad of that, he'd rather not have to walk past a miniature portrait of himself every day. They were running around, firing spells at robed and masked gangs of Death Eaters. Centaurs and giants charged in from the Forbidden Forest. Thestrals cut through the flashes of lightning in the sky, and the towers silhouetted against the storm were jagged, broken, like fangs. It was an ominous sight.</p><p>Though... if he wasn't mistaken, the battling students were... yes they were unkillable, bouncing back as if shaking off a stiff breeze as green lights struck them. They were, in return, casting ridiculous curses at the enemy, making them puke slugs and... did that one just turn into a small, fluffy creature? Harry was fairly sure the artist hadn't quite intended for these hijinks, which so undermined the grandeur of the battle scene, but he got the impression the tiny students had something of a will of their own, in keeping with the real students themselves.</p><p>"G-on yerself, son!" Seamus hissed, watching a brown-haired blur somersault over a Dementor's head and boot it in the backside so it fell face-first into a bucket.</p><p>"It's just up ahead," Professor Collins called back to them. "Come along."</p><p>They hurried past the mural - Harry grinned at Ron at the sight of a dragon gulping down a wriggling Death eater - and stopped just in front of a portrait of-</p><p>"Dumbledore!" Ron gasped.</p><p>The white-haired man whipped around. He peered out at them from over his half moon spectacles. Beside him was a desk with a flamboyant red quill dipped in ink and sheaves of paper stacked to left and right. A fat ginger tomcat was asleep on top of one of the piles. There was an empty cat bed on the rug. In the background, a fire crackled warmly.</p><p>"What what? Ron Weasley is it? I say, the haircut suits you my boy!" Ron's ears went pink. Dumbledore's portrait chuckled. "And look at you all. Magnificent thing, isn't it." It wasn't a question.</p><p>"Headmaster, sir, what have we discussed?" Collins was tutting.</p><p>The old man assumed a guilty expression, then winked at the gathering of students. "Oh yes well. I'm not really meant to be down here it's just-" He returned to rifling through the desk drawers. "A-ha! Emmeline thinks she can hide them from me - she can think again!" He pulled out a small bag and popped a swirly green boiled sweet in his mouth.</p><p>Then he, too, turned green. He examined his hand, thoughtfully.</p><p>"Regrettable," he sighed. "But delightfully minty."</p><p>"Really, headmaster. You're meant to be in the Headmistress' office. I know for a fact Ms. Vance wanted to greet the eighth years herself. Where is she by the way?"</p><p>The picture of Dumbledore waved a hand - a green but otherwise unblemished hand, Harry noted, with relief - and said, "Oh. Well I may have told her that Peeves was going to draw moustaches on the Order statue in the West wing (if you haven't seen it yet, do swing by; it's marvellous) and she dashed right off. Not sure if to try to stop him or to watch, if I'm honest. I expect she'll be back soon."</p><p>"Then you'd better go before she catches you with her sweets," Collins suggested.</p><p>"Hmm. Aah. But you see, I fear I am already caught," Dumbledore said, looking left to the mural where a determined looking speck was whizzing across the sky, getting larger every second. "I shall be seeing you. Good luck with your studies!" He darted back towards the fire, shrinking and losing detail as he moved from the foreground to the background, before taking a pinch of painted floo powder, shouting 'Headmistress' office!' and disappearing into the flames.</p><p>From the left, a witch burst in and landed her broomstick, which she propped up against the gold gilt frame. Harry recognised her instantly. Emmeline Vance. A fearsome witch and long-serving member of the Order of the Phoenix, before her recent untimely death.</p><p>She shooed the cat off the desk and, pointedly, closed a drawer that was not quite closed fully with a <em>snick.</em></p><p>"He is a terror, I tell you," she said to Collins. "I swear he rivals the poltergeist for mischief. I did get him, didn't I?" She folded her arms and leaned against the desk. The cat wound its way around her ankles.</p><p>Harry chanced a small wave. She nodded at him. Smiled.</p><p>"Now then. Password?"</p><p>"<em>Wysteria."</em></p><p>The portrait swung open.</p><p>Collins pulled at the ends of his bow tie, standing stiffly to attention.</p><p>"Welcome to the Dumbledore Den. It has been partially rebuilt from a previously disused classroom, knocked through to extend it to several storage rooms upstairs that have been converted into accommodation. It might be a bit 'fresh paint' and all that, but you'll soon make it your own, I'm sure.</p><p>"There are seven dorms, four for the boys and three for the girls. Each of the rooms have three, four or five beds. It wasn't possible to standardise everything exactly given the nature of the space, but the restoration team has tried to ensure there are suitable facilities for you all. Every dorm has its own bathroom, and the largest two dorms have small seating areas in addition to the comforts provided by the main common area.</p><p>Any questions?"</p><p>No-one did, so with that he simply gestured for them to enter.</p><p>Through the metre thick wall behind Emmeline Vance's portrait, the eighth years emerged into a quiet, pleasantly warm seating area. It barely resembled the room Harry remembered. Apart from the vaulted ceiling and the columns, everything was different, even the windows. The carpet running from wall to wall was plush and new, a deep orange with grey speckles - a bit '70s, Harry thought. The Dumbledore House crest festooned the walls in tapestry form, draping down from a balcony that encircled the room. The image of a Phoenix was also carved into the wooden rails at the bottom of two sets of stairs, their beaks hooking down to make the ends of the banisters.</p><p>The room was all odd corners and angles - not quite round, more hexagonal, with a few nooks and a window seat on one side. By a roaring fire covered with a black grate, grey chesterfield sofas stood in relief against the glow of the flames. Overhead, there were several small chandeliers, and along two walls, too high to reach from the lower floor, were rows of windows - dark, now.</p><p>Bookshelves lined one wall, containing not just books, but stacks of board games as well, and decorated with vases, glass orbs, statuettes and other trinkets. There were a couple of darkly stained fold-away tables with sloping high-backed chairs, padded with studded brown leather, in front of them. There were even a few massive turquoise and purple beanbag chairs dotted around the room.</p><p>Professor Collins poked his head in. "Your things are all lined up on the balcony. Owls are in the Owlery; every other familiar is permitted to stay in your rooms - they've been fed and watered. Not that many of you have familiars."</p><p><em>Sev!</em> Harry had half forgotten about her, somehow. He hoped she was alright. And thinking about it, Ron didn't have a pet this year and Hermione had decided to leave Crookshanks with Mrs Weasley, for company. He supposed Neville still had his toad, Trevor. Did snakes like company? <em>Probably not... and she might well eat a toad, even a big fat one like Trev.</em></p><p>The professor continued: "My quarters are on the fifth floor. You just go through the Muggle Studies showroom. I'm not the official Head of House or anything - there isn't one, but you can feel free to come to me if you need anything."</p><p>He left. The portrait closed behind him.</p><p>Harry glanced over at Ron, who shrugged and threw himself into a beanbag with a <em>whumpf.</em> Hermione immediately gravitated towards the bookshelves and started scouring the titles on the spines. No-one was talking, but many of the eighth years were inspecting the Den like cats sniffing around a new room. Some sat on the sofas. Some milled around the tables. Some poked around upstairs. The Slytherins crowded by the portrait as if ready to bolt at any sudden movements. Harry resisted the urge to shout 'HA!' at them. Instead, he considered his surroundings.</p><p>It wasn't Gryffindor Tower. But he had to admit... it sure looked cosy. And it wasn't a tent. If he could get used to that, he could get used to anything.</p><p>Harry yawned. He was pretty tired. And he didn't know where he was going to sleep tonight. And he wanted to check in with Severina. <em>Let's get this bit over with at least,</em> he thought. <em>It might take a while.</em></p><p>"Err, should we decide on our rooms?"</p><p>Hermione turned. "Good idea, Harry." She was holding a slim novel with a pink cover. She blushed, shoved it back on the shelf and came over. Some others joined them in a haphazard circle.</p><p>"Well, uh. What do we want to do?" Harry asked, feeling a bit like he was back in fifth year standing in front of the newly formed Dumbledore's Army.</p><p>"I have a suggestion." The Ravenclaw - ex-Ravenclaw - boy named Anthony Goldstein said, raising his hand. "Professor Collins indicated that there were four boys dorms. I've had a look and there are two with four beds, one with three and one with five all along the right hand side, there. If I'm not mistaken, that pretty much takes care of itself."</p><p>"What do you mean?" Ernie asked.</p><p>"In that myself, Terry, Michael and Oliver can take one of the four. Hufflepuffs can take the other. Gryffindors in the five. And the... Slytherins, they can go in the three. Simple."</p><p>Justin whooped. "Nice one, Goldstein. That's all sorted, then."</p><p>Harry had to admit, he was glad that he'd get to room with his fellow Gryffindors again. It would have been very weird, otherwise. The five of them were so used to one another's company.</p><p>"And the girls?" Hermione raised an eyebrow at the Ravenclaw.</p><p>Goldstein nodded in acknowledgement. "You have three rooms. A three, a four and a five. It's up to you how you want to split it, I guess. There's one bed more than you need actually, but some of you will still have to mix Houses."</p><p>"I hardly think that will be a problem, will it girls?" Hermione said, looking put out. "We can <em>actually</em> try <em>embracing</em> the spirit of this whole setup, can't we?"</p><p>Sue Li, another Ravenclaw, blinked sleepily. "Yes, I don't have a problem with it," she said.</p><p>"We want to room together," insisted the Patil twins, linking arms.</p><p>"It'll be nice to finally share a room," Padma added.</p><p>Tears welled in Parvati's eyes. Having never quite wrapped his head around crying girls, Harry found - as usual - he didn't know where to look.</p><p>"Lavender would've loved to room with us," she said, sniffing.</p><p><em>Twang, ouch.</em> Ron also went a bit pale.</p><p>"I- I know it's not the same, but I'll room with you," Lisa Turpin piped up, stepping forward to give her a hug. Hermione also offered to join them. They ushered the weeping twins up the stairs.</p><p>It was then decided that Hannah Abbott, Susan Bones, Megan Jones, Isobel MacDougal and Sue Li would take the five. A mix of Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws. That left Pansy Parkinson and Daphne Greengrass by default in the three bed dorm with the spare bed. Harry wondered if maybe a third Slytherin had been expected, but had not turned up. It seemed likely. Throughout the discussion, the five of them had listened in, silent, as if by a mutual pact. 'We pretend you don't exist, you pretend we don't exist.' That sort of thing. Though Harry noticed, of the three of the boys, only Zabini had his gaze focused on the group, his brows knitted together.</p><p>"Well, that wasn't as painful as I was expecting," Ron commented as they climbed the stone stairs. "Good of Goldstein to think it through like that."</p><p>"Yeah. And the Ravenclaws were good about having to split between the girls' rooms. Makes sense that more of them returned than the rest of us I 'spose."</p><p>"I'm just glad we don't have to share a room with... you know."</p><p>"Is there another You-Know-Who that I haven't heard about?" Harry quipped.</p><p>Ron punched his arm.</p><p>"Yeah. Well. You <em>know</em> who."</p><p>They reached the balcony and joined the other boys in dragging their things into their respective dorms. Harry looked inside his vivarium but saw no sign of Severina. She was likely under her log again. He and Ron carefully picked her up and carried her into the five-person dorms.</p><p>Inside, the room was decorated in much the same way as the Den, but with scatter rugs sporting the House crest on the stone floor rather than carpets. Heavy dark greenish-blue curtains hung around on the four-poster beds, which were made of a near-black mahogany wood. There was a small fireplace with a two-person sofa and an armchair in front of it, both pale violet and the same style as the furniture downstairs. At the end of each bed was a chest of drawers and a small rail to hang up a few things. Beside the beds on one side was a bedside table with a lamp. On the other was a small desk and chair, facing the window. There was a door on one end of the dorm that Harry assumed must lead to the washroom.</p><p>"Pretty sweet we've got this room," Ron said. He lounged on the sofa, feet hanging over one end; putting his hands behind his head, he closed his eyes. "It's obviously totally rubbish compared to Gryffindor Tower, but... we never had our own living room and fireplace there, did we - just had that poxing little stove that barely heated up half the place."</p><p>Neville wandered over and sat in the armchair. It had winged sides and brass studs along the edges. He was holding Trevor in his lap. "Yes. It's definitely not so bad," he agreed. "I wonder what the other rooms look like? I didn't have a chance to look around."</p><p>"'Sure we will at some point."</p><p>Harry walked away from the conversation and opened Severina's vivarium.</p><p>"Sev?"</p><p>She hissed in greeting, half asleep by the sounds of it. "A creature fed me mice." She flicked her tongue against her upturned nose and stretched her jaw, which made her look as if she were smiling. "It was a very nice creature." Harry supposed she was talking about a House Elf.</p><p>He picked her up and she wrapped herself around his wrist and hand. Her body felt cool and firm. She had two bulges in her belly from the mice. Her black eyes took in her surroundings, unblinking.</p><p>"Listen Sev, there's a toad here that you mustn't try to bite. Or eat. It's Neville pet. Trevor. Do you think you can manage that?"</p><p>She bobbed her short head towards him. "Yesss. Toad isss... not my favourite... flavour."</p><p>He nodded. "Good. Come on. Let's introduce you to the other guys."</p><p>Ron called over.</p><p>"Oi, Harry! Whispering sweet nothings to dear Sevvy, are we?"</p><p>Neville's eyes popped as if a ghost had goosed him from behind.</p><p>
  <em>"Sevvy?"</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Best Laid Plans of Toads and Wizards</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Harry clattered down the stairs, dodging a cluster of second years on their way to class, who squeaked his name as he passed. He reached the first floor and headed towards the hospital wing.</p><p>
  <em>For once I'm not visiting because I'm injured... or one of my friends are injured... Huh, that's new.</em>
</p><p>As he arrived, one of the doors burst open and to his surprise Blaise Zabini charged out into the corridor, nearly bowling him over. The olive-skinned boy was practically vibrating - with fury, Harry surmised from the crackling of the air around him. He raised his fists from his sides instinctually. But Zabini barely afforded him a glance.</p><p>"Sorry," he said instead, through gritted teeth.</p><p>Harry was even more bemused at this.</p><p>"W- what?"</p><p>"Oh, it's you. Well. You heard." Then, he stalked away, robes billowing out behind him.</p><p><em>Was he err... crying?</em> There seemed to be an awful lot of crying happening round Hogwarts lately. It was both expected and unsettling.</p><p>Harry stared after him until he rounded the corner. Then turned, knocked, and pushed the double doors to the hospital wing open. He was a bit shaken by the strange encounter. He found the place empty, so went through the wing until he arrived at the open door of Madam Pomfrey's office.</p><p>"Potter? Rather soon in the year to be seeing you - I'll be with you in a moment. It's not an emergency, is it? There are chocolate drops in the bowl." Poppy Pomfrey waved her white quill at the corner of her neatly arranged desk. She then went back to writing notes. A chair in front of her lay fallen on its back, metal legs in the air.</p><p>"I- I'm actually fine, Madam Pomfrey. I'll wait." He looked around. The room hadn't changed much. Last he'd seen it there were students in all the beds, on the floors, screaming, people rushing around... it was peaceful and quite empty, now. Sunlight streamed in from the floor-to-ceiling windows.</p><p>The scratching of her quill stopped a few seconds later. She laid it gently to one side, laced her fingers under her chin and appraised him from beneath her cowl.</p><p>"How may I help you this morning? I do apologise - take a seat, please." Wandlessly, she gestured at the chair, which righted itself. Harry did as he was told.</p><p>He reached into the deep pocket on the inside of his robe and drew out the booklet they'd been given the day before. Following his discussion earlier that morning with Professor Hadley, the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher who was his career counsellor for the year, it was now peppered with bookmarks.</p><p>"I had my one-to-one this morning," he said. "And um. Actually I'm here because I was wondering if I could sign up for your extra-curricular classes on Healing magic and potions? It says here..." he trailed off, trying to find the page in his book.</p><p>"Oh!" Her expression morphed from mild concern to delight. She sat back. "Well that's wonderful news, Potter. An excellent idea. And as an Auror certainly a very useful field of magic to have some experience in-"</p><p>"Um." Harry scratched the back of his head. "Err - well, the thing is I actually was thinking of... becoming a Healer myself. Maybe."</p><p>She clapped a hand over her mouth. "Oh! Oh my! That <em>is</em> unexpected." She let out a sob. "To think Harry Potter would want to follow in my footsteps, it's just, oh, it's just wonderful!"</p><p>Harry was at a loss. Pomfrey seemed so together most of the time, resolute in the face of danger, unyielding in a crisis... and then once in a while she'd pop like a water balloon. Like now.</p><p>"Sorry?" he ventured.</p><p>She whipped a handkerchief from her sleeve and blew her nose.</p><p>"I'm as bad as McGonagall... absolute wet rag," she admonished herself.</p><p>Harry snorted and filed that snippet away to tell Ron later. She tucked the handkerchief away again and composed herself.</p><p>"So, you wish to work in the noble profession of Healing. It was my understanding that you and the Weasley boy were dead set on becoming Aurors?"</p><p>Harry shrugged. "Things change. And I hadn't really considered it before, but then I got to talking with someone over the summer and I read a few books - the more I found out about how Healing magic works the more I liked the idea. I think it... suits me? I'm a bit tired of fighting. Would be nice to do something that's sort of... the opposite?" He remembered the feeling of relief, the sheer exhilaration he felt when he saved Ron from being poisoned by feeding him the bezoar. That something so simple could do so much good was kind of fascinating.</p><p>She nodded, sympathetic.</p><p>"Well, you'll be pleased to know Padma Patil has also signed up. You know each other, yes? So far, it's just the two of you. But that's fine by me; it's easier with a small group to teach this kind spellcraft.</p><p>"As you'll see in your book, the class is a part-time extra-curricular affair. You won't get a qualification, but you will learn some useful skills (and I am happy to write a letter of recommendation for further education and employment purposes, should you do well) - I don't plan on making it easy, however. And neither does Professor Tang. She will be taking the Thursday morning class in Healing Potions at eight o'clock, before your regular classes. I will take Monday's and Tuesdays at the same time. Classes are forty minutes to allow you a short window for breakfast, or you may have breakfast beforehand, whatever suits.</p><p>"Do you have a history of lateness?" she stopped to ask.</p><p>Harry flashed back to all the times he'd been late to class. A hundred? Two hundred times?</p><p>"Uhh... I don't think I'm too bad?"</p><p>"I won't tolerate lateness you know," she continued. She was sounding a lot more like her usual strict self again. "Now. You and Miss Patil will arrive at five to eight for my classes here, in the hospital wing. You'll go to the dungeons for Professor Tang's lessons. I assume your career counsellor has informed you of the required subjects for Healing?"</p><p>He nodded. He had to do Transfiguration, Herbology and Potions. Potions was a bit of bad luck. <em>And now I'm signing up for EXTRA potions by the sound of it...</em> Thankfully, not Arithmancy, anyway. He also had one optional subject, and had chosen Care of Magical Creatures since he knew Ron was also planning on taking that class. It would be nice to spend some time with Hagrid each week, as well. And it was - he hoped - a relatively light class for homework, since he remembered Hagrid complaining about having to mark the stuff. He had bought the general studies book list at Flourish and Blotts, and books for those subjects he knew he'd be taking, like Care of Magical Creatures, but now had a few more advanced textbooks that he would have to order in. He hoped he could borrow someone's owl, or that maybe one of the shops in Hogsmeade would have copies.</p><p>"Good. The skills you learn should help to further your understanding between subjects. Are you taking any other extra-curriculars?"</p><p>"No, I don't think so? I already have my Apparation licence. Maybe Quidditch? I don't know if I'll be able to play on a team yet though."</p><p>"Hmm. Not going to try for your Animagus? They're running a mentorship programme for that now. The Headmistress herself is spearheading it."</p><p>"I thought about it. I think I'll leave that for now, to be honest. I know it was my dad's thing and all, but I don't much fancy finding out if I'm a squirrel or something. And I have to concentrate on classes to get the grades I need. Maybe... after I finish school?" he mused.</p><p>"Yes. A time after school does exist," she said, tittering. "And you have every opportunity to continue your learning, of course.</p><p>"Very well, then. Classes start next week, Monday. Seven fifty-five, Potter."</p><p>"I'll be there!" He jumped up and grinned. "Thanks, Madam Pomfrey."</p><p>He left the hospital wing in high spirits, grin still plastered on his face. He had grabbed a handful of chocolate drops on the way out and was munching them, happily.</p><p>It was Wednesday, normally a half day for sports and other activities, though these were due to start the next week, so he had the rest of the day free. He <em>should</em> start his essay or do something useful like ordering those books, really, but he just wasn't in the mood to. And it was another hour until lunch. So... what? He paused to look out into the courtyard. Clear day. Warm, though a little cooler than the baking heat of August. Perfect, in fact. He grinned even wider, jogged in the direction of the Gryffindor Tower, remembered himself, spun on a heel and bounded up the main staircase, two at a time.</p><p>"Ron!" he said as he entered the Den and spotted his friend's red hair; he was once again lounging in a purple beanbag chair. The booklet of subjects was in his lap.</p><p>"Harry!" Ron said, matching his excited tone in a light-hearted imitation.</p><p>"Fancy a quick fly around the pitch before lunch?"</p><p>Ron's face lit up. "Brilliant idea, mate! Let's do it!"</p><p>They raced each other to their dorms and stripped down to shirts, jumpers and trousers. Ron had previously stuffed his tie deep in the recesses of his trunk, vowing to wear it as little as he could get away with, so he wore his collar unbuttoned and at a jaunty angle with one side sticking straight up. His shirt was half untucked. Where before when he did this it just made him look scruffy, now... now for some reason it looked more intentional. Even... cool? He'd grown to look quite a lot like Bill Weasley in the last year, Harry thought. (<em>Before the werewolf attack,</em> an ever-present doom-and-gloom-obssessed voice pitched in, unhelpfully.)</p><p>Ron grabbed his Cleansweep Eleven and Harry his Firebolt. They made their way out to the pitch and took off before they even reached it, too excited to get into the air.</p><p>Immediately Harry was reminded that yes, flying was the best feeling in the world. Well... his mind turned to images of Ginny lying naked under him... of Ginny kissing her way down his body... <em>one</em> of the best feelings in the world. The turn of his thoughts made him swerve as his perch on the broomstick became a little... err... uncomfortable.</p><p>Trying to distract himself, he plunged into a steep dive, hurtling towards the ground, faster, faster, faster still, until - right at the last second - he pulled up into a loop-the-loop, the wind screaming in his ears. Ron whooped and spiralled down to meet him.</p><p>"That was wicked, Harry!"</p><p>Harry flushed at the compliment.</p><p>"Wanna chuck the quaffle about?" Ron asked, hovering and swinging his legs.</p><p>"Sure!"</p><p>The pair of them entered the Great Hall an hour or so later, grinning ear to ear and dishevelled with exertion. Seamus and Dean waved them over to the group that was already tucking into a platter full of sandwiches. Harry and Ron sat down.</p><p>"Saw you practicing out there. Sweet moves, boys," Seamus said, before returning to a conversation with Dean Thomas about a spell that could turn milk into cheese in under three seconds.</p><p>"I got you with that last one, didn't I?" Ron said while somehow also eating half a sandwich in the process.</p><p>"Yeah, you did. I want to work on that one move more: the feint? I reckon we could get it really slick with some work." Harry gulped most of his glass of pumpkin juice. The cool liquid soothed his parched throat. There had been a lot of yelling during the match. The fun kind. His goblet refilled itself as he put it back down.</p><p>Opposite them, further towards the middle of the table, Neville was chatting with Ginny, who'd abandoned the Gryffindor table to join him. He looked at ease, relaxed in her presence in a way Harry didn't remember being the case before.</p><p><em>Of course,</em> he thought. He mentally slapped himself on the forehead. They had both been at Hogwarts last year. They had started the DA again, with Luna - of course they were close, now. It was nice to see. He didn't quite know why, but when they saw him looking at them, he gave them a thumbs up.</p><p>Ron nudged him with a sharp elbow. "What's that about?" He nodded towards the far end of the table. Harry let his gaze slide further down the row.</p><p>The ex-Slytherins were in what appeared to be a heated argument. Or no, it was something else... he leaned closer, then realised that he couldn't hear them at all. They'd clearly cast some sort of <em>Muffliato</em> spell. It didn't give listeners a buzzing sound in their ears though; it merely surrounded the five students in a bubble of silence.</p><p>Blaise Zabini was there - looking even more thunderous than he had outside of the hospital wing. He sat stiff as a rod, Parkinson at his side. Her pug-face was scrunched up in an empathetic wince. She was patting his hand. Nott was facing him, flapping his arms around as if exasperated. It was obvious he was shouting quite loudly, though not at anyone in particular. Only Daphne Greengrass looked non-plussed about the whole thing. She was slouched with her chin propped on her fists.</p><p>And Malfoy... Malfoy was livid. Harry was familiar with Malfoy's livid face; he'd been on the receiving end of it enough times. He said something to Zabini, who shook his head, tightly. Malfoy slapped his hands on the table and stood. <em>What is he saying?</em> Harry tried to lip-read as he spoke again. Zabini reached out an arm to catch his sleeve, twisting on the bench. Malfoy shrugged him off. Turned. There was a real fire in his eyes as he spoke for a third time. Parkinson nodded in agreement at whatever he was saying. Zabini opened and closed his mouth in response, but Harry was pretty sure he hadn't said a word, just gaped at the blonde.</p><p>Then, Malfoy leaned in and continued speaking emphatically in Zabini's face, holding him by the shoulders. It was almost, like he was reassuring him? He kept talking as he stood up and strode out of the silencing charm's sphere of influence. Those that were listening in caught, before he disappeared out the Great Hall, the last half of his sentence:</p><p>"-if they don't, I'll do it myself if I have to!"</p><p>Harry whipped round to Ron. He half stood in his seat before he felt Hermione's presence.</p><p>"Not happening," she said, sliding in between them.</p><p>"But he's clearly up to something!" Ron whined at the same time Harry said, "We should follow him!"</p><p>Hermione shook her head. "Not this year. Please. Can't we just sit and have a peaceful lunch? Please?"</p><p>In the past, Harry would have ignored her and gone anyway. In the past, he'd already be outside confronting Malfoy. But Hermione's tone had an edge to it. Ron heard it, too - he looked up at the staff table.</p><p>"Look, McGonagall saw the whole thing," he pointed out to his girlfriend. It was a bit strained, but a good effort, Harry thought. Maybe with practice he could take a supporting role in a B movie.</p><p>Hermione sighed. "So there. She's keeping an eye on them. I'm sure whatever it is, the teachers can deal with it. It's not like they trust him any more than we do, now."</p><p>Ron cast a pleading look at Harry before saying, as if he didn't believe the words that were coming out of his mouth: "How was your career counselling appointment, 'Mione?"</p><p>Harry, who was also itching to leap out of his seat, feigned interest as she launched into talking about her discussion with Professor Collins. Apparently it had gone on an extra hour.</p><p>"There's just so much to learn, you know? I had <em>no idea</em> the range of options; I don't know what I was <em>thinking</em> in sixth year - but of course there's such a variety of career opportunities, not to mention higher learning, research and academia, apprenticeships, overseas placements. Did you know there's a whole speciality in new magic? Creating spells and so on? Or I'd really love to take a crack at a <em>scientific</em> approach to Divination. I have so much to read about before I can decide. Of course, Professor Collins let me take five N.E.W.T.s, but agreed that six was too much, but then I also want to do <em>so many</em> of the extra-curriculars - did you know there a Muggle Art appreciation class running? I think I've signed up to something every morning during the week. That hardly counts right? It's just time I would be sleeping or wasting at breakfast, anyway.</p><p>"Suffice it to say, I need to nail the direction - and I'd like to get a doctorate to start with - Collins says 'find my passion' but what if my passion is different from what I'm <em>good</em> at? It's a real conundrum."</p><p>Harry rather suspected Hermione would spend her entire life in pursuit of her elusive 'passion'. Researching and researching... never quite circling round to the fact that her passion was the research itself.</p><p>"What're you taking?" he asked, a little woodenly. He bit into an apple. He was pretty sure it didn't taste of anything. He couldn't stop thinking of Draco Malfoy running around the castle with free rein to do whatever he pleased. '<em>I'll do it myself if I have to.' Do what, exactly?</em></p><p>She counted. "Divination. Don't you start again Ron, I know what I've said and I'm allowed to change my mind. Though Trelawney is running the department again so who knows if I'll last. Then Ancient Runes, of course. Advanced Arithmancy. Muggle Studies. And Astronomy. They've moved the observatory to a separate tower they had built on the edge of the Forest, you know. With the Astronomy Tower still under construction."</p><p>"Oh," said Ron, looking a bit downcast. "We're not taking a single subject together."</p><p>Now that Harry thought about it, neither was he. A small, cheeky voice in his head, which he would deny in front of a judge existed, cheered. Maybe that would mean they could keep their homework assignments secret so Hermione couldn't hound them about it all the time.</p><p>"That's a shame," Hermione said. "I did wonder if you'd join me in Ancient Runes, since I know you're planning on taking A History of Magic. There's a lot of crossover, like Latin and the Classics."</p><p>"What? No chance. I can only survive so much boredom."</p><p>"What <em>are</em> you taking, then?"</p><p>"Umm. Charms. Knew I wanted to do that already, it can be a pretty fun class. History of Magic. Care of Magical Creatures. And I ended up picking Herbology - not really my thing but it's more my thing than anything else that was left."</p><p>"I can't help but notice... the easiest subjects, I see. And what happened to applying to be an Auror? You're missing half the classes you'd need."</p><p>"Oi! I'm going for my Animagus as well, you know. That takes up all of Saturday morning for the whole first term. And second if you can't get the hang of it by Christmas. And err... well that's the thing."</p><p>Harry suspected he knew what his best friend was about to say, and he was relieved when Ron confirmed it:</p><p>"I don't think I fancy being an Auror anymore. Look. I'm sorry to leave you high and dry 'cause I know we said we'd do the training together, mate, but I've had enough."</p><p>He did look sorry, Harry thought. He would've said not to worry but his mouth was full of apple. He settled on raising his eyebrows and grunting.</p><p>"After Fred... I don't think I could put mum through the anxiety. And George, well. He needs me. It's a lot of fun working at the shop, too. I can chat to folk. Manage the books and the stock. On slow days I get to play around with new product lines. Did I tell you I'm making a murder mystery game all themed around the Forbidden Forest? George says if it sells I can try my hand at inventing a whole <em>line</em> of puzzles and games and stuff!"</p><p>"But what about your career? That's just... just a job," said Hermione. The disappointment in her voice landed like a lead balloon.</p><p>"Hey!" Ron crumpled in his seat, offended. "It's not. It is so a proper career. And yeah, it won't matter a hoot if I pass my N.E.W.T.s or fail every one. So what? That's my choice to make."</p><p>"You're talking about <em>our</em> lives, Ronald," Hermione said, getting heated.</p><p>Harry started to wish, if possible, even more fervently that he'd chased after Malfoy. An altercation with an ex-Death Eater sounded way more fun than listening in on this conversation.</p><p>"Am I? Stupid me, here I thought it was <em>my</em> life!"</p><p>"I wish you'd take long-term planning seriously. You can't just work in a shop forever."</p><p>"Who says?!"</p><p>Hermione looked side-long at Harry then, in hushed tones to Ron, hissed, "<em>We will talk about this, later.</em>"</p><p>"Oh <em>will we now?!</em>"</p><p>Steam may or may not have been coming out of Ron's ears.</p><p>Hermione ignored him and collected herself. She pivoted to Harry. He tried not to flinch.</p><p>"What about you?" She breathed. "What subjects did you choose?"</p><p>He swallowed his last bite of apple. "Care of Magical Creatures and Herbology, same as Ron. Transfiguration. And Potions."</p><p>Ron looked disgusted. "Potions. Sucks that they need that for the Auror entrance requirements."</p><p>"Oh, we're not in any classes together, either." Then Hermione looked puzzled. "But, Harry - you're missing a subject, too. Don't they prefer if you take Charms for Auror training?"</p><p>He nodded. "I actually wanted to talk to you guys about that, too. I uhh, I'm kind of in the same boat as you, Ron. I've decided not to be an Auror."</p><p>Ron looked genuinely taken aback. "Really? You never said!"</p><p>"I've actually been thinking about it since that night Mrs. Tonks visited with Teddy. It turns out she used to be a Healer and she got me interested. I picked up a few books about it and I've talked to Professor Hadley about how the training system works and what subjects I need to take. She thinks it's a good idea. And Madam Pomfrey is doing some part-time classes during the week as well, with Professor Tang. So... yeah. I want to be a Healer." It felt a bit embarrassing to admit to his friends, for some reason. When had this choice come to mean so much to him?</p><p>Ron whistled. "A Healer. You'll need to study as hard as Hermione, mate. I hear those programmes are tough to get into. Don't envy you. But like... I get it. I really get it, in fact. You fix stuff, it's kinda your thing. Fixed the whole damn wizarding world, in a way. Makes sense. Heal people instead of hurt them. Look after folk, but in like... a rewarding way. Yeah."</p><p>Harry felt his chest practically explode with warmth. Yep. That was exactly why he loved Ron. He understood right away. He didn't question it. He was on the same level. </p><p>He beamed.</p><p>"That's right. You've nailed it. And yeah, five N.E.W.T.s, three 'Outstandings' and no lower than an 'Exceeds Expectations' on anything. Thankfully we've already got our O in Defence Against the Dark Arts, otherwise I don't think I'd make it."</p><p>"I believe in you, bud. Hey, I'll help you study. I think I'll be taking it pre-etty easy this year so might as well help you."</p><p>"Thanks!"</p><p>"Or maybe you could use that time for concentrating on your own studies, Ronald." Sarcasm dripped from her every word.</p><p>Ron huffed and took a big gulp from his goblet as if to swallow an unwise reply.</p><p>"Do you really think you can get the grades?" Hermione asked, doubtful.</p><p>"Dunno. I'm going to try my best. I'm kind of looking forward to the challenge." Harry laughed. "As long as Malfoy isn't up to something that takes up - what was it? - 'half my brain', I think I'll be fine!"</p><p>Ron snorted into his pumpkin juice.</p><p>"Off to a great start then, aren't we?"</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Yes, Homework Still Exists</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>By the end of that evening's dinner they all had their timetables, which they'd brought up to the Dumbledore Den. The eighth years were settling into their new accommodation more comfortably now. There was a game of Exploding Snap going on at one of the tables. People had taken to walking around in socks or even barefoot on the silky wall-to-wall carpet, which was luscious and cool underfoot and nearly came up to your ankles.</p><p>Harry and Ron were sitting on and around a couple of the beanbag chairs, along with Neville, Seamus, Justin Finch-Fletchley and Ernie Macmillan. Harry was mulling over his timetable and nibbling on one of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans, cross-legged on the floor.</p><p>As well as his Healing lessons, he had double Transfiguration and double Herbology on Monday. Tuesday was Care of Magical Creatures, Herbology and double Potions in the afternoon. Wednesday was a half day, so the morning cycled between one week of Potions and Transfiguration, and his other two subjects the next week. Thursday started with double Potions, which was good in a way because he'd already be in the dungeons from next week, and bad because it was the first class of the year tomorrow and that fact made his palms sweat; then, Transfiguration and Care of Magical Creatures. He was pretty pleased with Friday, because though it started with Transfiguration, he had Herbology and double Care of Magical Creatures, which was a good way to round off the week as he shared both classes with Ron.</p><p>It was interesting to see that they hadn't been kidding when they said eighth year would break down the barriers between Houses. Every one of his classes was a mix of Gryffindors, Slytherins, Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs. Or none of them were, if you looked at it a different way. They were all <em>Dumbledore</em> House now, weren't they?</p><p>Hermione had proposed at dinner that it was also simply because they were a smaller year group:</p><p>"If they didn't have us all in the classes together, then they would be doing twice the work for very small class sizes - maybe even just two or three pupils at a time."</p><p>She was currently in the library, writing the essay for her careers counsellor. Already, she was pretty miffed that the pair of them hadn't started theirs. And Ron was pretty miffed, too, (or more like fuming) that she wasn't taking his decisions seriously <em>at all</em>. And she was practically boiling over with frustration that he wasn't even going to try to get good grades, or a proper career, or a <em>life</em>.</p><p>Needless to say, they weren't speaking.</p><p>"Can't believe I've got double History of Magic on a Monday," Ron moaned. "I'll never be able to keep myself awake! I am already regretting like... everything. What've you got?"</p><p>"Double Transfigurations."</p><p>"Is that worse? I think it's not. Damn you."</p><p>"Hey, on Thursdays I effectively have triple Potions in the morning. Feel sorry for me yet?"</p><p>"Only a little. If you're taking these classes with Pomfrey do you think you could sneak out some Pepper-up potion so my soul doesn't leave my body at the start of every week?"</p><p>"I think Pomfrey may object."</p><p>"Yes I know, but can you do it anyway. Pleeeeease?" he wheedled.</p><p>"I promise nothing."</p><p>"That's the best I'm getting, is it? Fine. What d'you reckon the new professors will be like? I haven't got any of them."</p><p>Harry had Dr Khatri for Transfiguration and Professor Tang for both his weekly Healing Potions and regular Potions classes.</p><p>"Potions without Snape is going to be freaky. Kind of wish I still had the Half Blood Prince's copy of <em>Advanced Potion-Making.</em> My grades were so much better when I still had it..." They'd declined sharply thereafter, and the book had long since perished in the Fiendfyre that engulfed the Room of Requirement. "Might be that Professor Tang is a bit easier to learn from, though. Much as Snape was uh, great and all, he wasn't exactly the most supportive teacher."</p><p>Ron held out two hands and moved each up and down like a tipping scale. "Hero of our time. Crap with kids. Can't be good at everything."</p><p>"At least you'll be with me, Harry," said Neville. He was also sitting on the carpet, once again wearing his Peruvian jumper. The sleeves dangled over the backs of his hands.</p><p>"Yeah?"</p><p>"I'm taking Potions, too. We can fail together!" His laugh was a nervous one. "I think enough people chose Transfigurations that they are actually doing two classes for that subject, though, 'cause I've got it at a different time on here and it says it's being taught by <em>Mr</em> Khatri, look. And I'm taking Charms, so I'm with you in that class, Ron. I'm doing an extra curricular in Advanced Botanics and Entomology though, so we won't be in Herbology together, which kinda sucks."</p><p>Ron looked impressed. "When did you become such a swot, Neville?"</p><p>Neville turned crimson. "I- I <em>was</em> here all of last year. Even if most of the stuff we learned was total, well to be honest with you, total <em>b-bollocks</em>. I got my Herbology N.E.W.T. already, thanks to Professor Sprout letting me secretly sit the the exam early. Don't know how, but I got an O. And they gave us that Defence Against the Dark Arts 'Outstanding' over the summer, which was amazing, so I have to get 'Exceeds Expectations' in three more classes to qualify. Though maybe they'd be happy if I got two? Since I have two Os already. I'm not sure how it works. Professor Sprout is my careers counsellor so she's looking into it for me."</p><p>"Bloody hell, Longbottom!" Justin Finch-Fletchley whistled.</p><p>"Qualify for what?" Ernie asked, tuning into the conversation as well.</p><p>Neville went even more red. "Y- you'll think it's daft," he said.</p><p>Seamus nudged him. "Not a chance. Go on, tell us."</p><p>"Well after the battle. And all the work we put into the DA and everything. I... decided that I want to follow in my parents' footsteps. You know, be an Auror."</p><p>"An Auror?" Ron leaned in. "Mate, that's fucking fantastic! Couldn't think of a better candidate! You'll be bloody brilliant!" The others agreed, loudly.</p><p>"The- there's no guarantee. Still a long shot, I mean how am I going to pass Potions for a start?"</p><p>Harry shook his head. Sure he'd pictured Neville doing something like a quiet job in Herbology before, but after seeing him in battle, it definitely made way more sense for him to be an Auror. And it was kind of nice, that one of the boys 'born on the seventh month' would keep up the good fight against the forces of evil and all that.</p><p>"Neville, you sliced a giant snake in half with a sword, fought off dozens of Death Eaters and lived - you're the Hero of Hogwarts, you do realise that? I think you - and me - can manage a little Potions class, right?" he said.</p><p>Neville darted a grateful, white smile in his direction. "Oh. Um Well. Yes, OK then."</p><p>Seamus punched the air. "That's my man!"</p><p>To one side, the two ex-Hufflepuffs put their heads together and whispered for a few seconds.</p><p>"Hey," said Ernie to the group, conspiratorially. "This calls for a celebration. Have any of you ever been to... the kitchens?"</p><p>One tickled pear; a raid on butterbeer and snacks (willingly given by a cluster of House Elves who were eager to do anything for The Harry Potter, whose heartstrings plucked painfully **once more as he thought of poor old Dobby), and an evening of boardgames and tomfoolery later, the boys turned in for the night. Harry lay drifting off on his bed, surrounded by curtains and darkness, satisfied and happy. Even the niggling thought of Draco Malfoy plotting something had faded into a background, 'deal with it later' sort of thing.</p><p><em>Will the whole year be like this?</em> He thought, dreamily. He sure hoped so.</p><p>The scream cut through him like a knife. He whirled around. The dungeon, Malfoy Manor. Luna Lovegood was trembling in a corner, rocking with her hands over her ears, her pale legs marred with streaks of dirt. Ollivander's gaunt face loomed out of the shadows and he wrung his hands, feverish - "You must do something, Potter. You must do something or they will destroy her." And Ron, Ron was yelling and wrenching and pounding at the iron bars, but they wouldn't open, they wouldn't open and Hermione's terrible shriek pierced the air once more-</p><p>Harry sat up, gasping, sweat-soaked and tangled in sheets. The chink of light slicing across his bedspread through the azure curtains told him it was morning. And he wasn't at Malfoy Manor anymore. He was at Hogwarts. It was over. It wasn't real.</p><p>He waited for his heart to stop drumming enough that he could think. Right. Good. Nightmares had always plagued him, but they'd died down a bit since the night he killed Voldemort. He'd hardly had any at the Burrow. <em>Maybe it's because I'm back at the school? Maybe it's dredging stuff up?</em> Not exactly how he'd wanted to start the day, anyway.</p><p>He pressed his forehead to his knees. <em>AND I've got double Potions first.</em></p><p>Though he'd been in a rather grim mood all through breakfast, not helped by the fact that Ron and Hermione still hadn't made up, Harry brightened a bit at the sight of Neville waiting for him outside the entrance to the dungeons. He joined in step as they walked towards the classroom.</p><p>"Is it weird that I'm missing Snape?" Neville said. "At least with him I knew what to expect."</p><p>Harry, too, felt far more nervous than he'd anticipated. He'd fought in a war, for fuck's sake. But the adrenaline from that dream earlier still hadn't abated. At least, that's what he was telling himself.</p><p>They entered the old familiar Potions lab with its rows of cauldrons and jarred ingredients stacked on shelves. Everything was the same, except instead of Severus Snape hunching over the desk at the front of the room, Professor Natalie Tang was standing on it. She pointed at their heads with her wand as they walked in.</p><p>"-nine, ten - take a pew, boys, it'll be yours for the term - eleven-," she counted. She wasn't quite as short as Flitwick, but there were only a few inches in it. She had a stiff pointed hat on as if to make up for that fact.</p><p>Once the eighth years had filed in, Harry saw a few of the Ravenclaw (<em>ex-Ravenclaw!)</em> girls gathered at the back, Padma included, and also Susan Bones and Megan...something? And a boy whose name he couldn't remember at all - did it begin with a 'W'? Terry Boot was sitting with Dean. And Nott and Greengrass were at the front, which was unfortunate given the only remaining spots were at the station directly behind them. At least he could entertain himself by glaring at the backs of their heads. Maybe he could 'accidentally' splash a potion on their robes once in a while... He vowed to ask Ron if any of his <em>Wizard Wheezes</em> could be deployed in an opportune way in this setting.</p><p>There were a dozen students in the class, by the time they were all there - despite the difficulty, Potions was a fairly popular requirement for placements and higher education - and Harry was surprised not to see Malfoy in attendance. Perhaps, now that Snape wasn't teaching it and he couldn't enjoy the ruthless punishments the old Potions Master had liked to dole out to Harry and his friends, he wasn't interested in Potions anymore?</p><p>"Now!" Tang jumped down from the desk. Her hat bobbed as she circled round to the board. She reintroduced herself, writing her name in chalk; she put a heart above the 'i' in 'Natalie' and Harry tried not to let his face do anything strange. What Snape would have said in response to seeing <em>that</em> on <em>his</em> blackboard? He shuddered to imagine.</p><p>"I know you've all had a disrupted - or even non-existent - year last year. Given this is your first class back, I think we should start with something fun to get into the swing of things," she said.</p><p>Harry felt Neville relax a little beside him.</p><p>"A quiz on the uses of hyena hides in Grecian potion-making. There are two hundred and forty-two uses; let's see how many you can get. A point to Dumbledore for every correct answer. One point off for every incorrect answer. What is your name? Boot? Pleasure to meet you. You can start us off."</p><p>An hour later they were down thirty points and the mood in the room had shifted from cautious optimism to downright panic. Tang was relentless. Cheerful. Unyielding. She praised correct answers lavishly, but took points for even the slightest mistake: "Oh dear, Miss Bones, I think you'll find it's three hairs from the <em>spotted</em> hyena used in a coughing cure - you failed to specify the variety. In Potions you really must get the details right; as silence is to a lie, omission is as bad as a wrong answer. Of course, you'll remember for next time. Just rusty I expect. Gosh you <em>are</em> all a bit rusty today, aren't you?" She had laughed as if she genuinely believed this was an anomaly that would soon wear off. Harry was pretty sure he knew otherwise.</p><p>After the quiz, she had them brew a Babbling Beverage. Harry saw Padma Patil smile at this. She and her sister had concocted this potion in secret to use on Umbridge's loudspeakers in fifth year, which they'd accomplished with Harry's help. He hadn't worked so much on the potion itself though, so he couldn't enjoy the same relief.</p><p>Still, without Snape barking at him every five minutes, Neville proved much less clumsy than he used to as a partner, and was quite good at carefully stripping the core of the poinsettia stems given his Herbology experience. Between them, they managed to produce something approximating the colour and consistency described in their textbooks. It burbled merrily in the cauldron as they waved Professor Tang over to inspect it. On the way, she paused and gave a thumbs up to Nott and Greengrass, who had finished already and were packing up. Harry prickled when he saw Nott sneer behind her back.</p><p>Once she reached their bench, she took her wand out and extracted a stream of liquid out of the cauldron, letting it swirl in the air and catch the dim lamplight. She released it, and it fell back down with a <em>plop.</em></p><p>"Lovely shade!" she concluded. "You must have really paid attention when cutting those poinsettias."</p><p>Neville nearly fell over backwards. Praise. For a potion. It was all a bit much, Harry suspected. He too, warmed to her in that moment. OK, so she was still a tough teacher. Tough, but fair. He'd take that any day.</p><p>"Put a sample on my desk. We won't be taste-testing this one today as the effects can be rather long-lasting. You can tidy up and head to lunch. Oh and take a note of the assignment on the board before you leave, please. I'd like at least ten inches on the reasons for using distilled hyena laughter in voice-alteration tinctures by Monday."</p><p>After lunch - Hermione was at the Ravenclaw table with Luna the whole time - Ron and Harry parted ways, Ron heading to his first History of Magic class and Harry to Transfiguration. They agreed to meet outside the main entrance hall so they could walk to Hagrid's hut together afterwards.</p><p>Dr Diya Khatri, an Indian woman in a pink sari, had a scientific and technical attitude to Transfiguration that surpassed even McGonagall's approach. To start the class she explained in clipped, rigorous detail the principle of Artificianimate Quasi-Dominance as a result of failed Conjuring spells, writing formulas on the board that looked to Harry like Muggle physics and diagrams that would've made an engineer cross-eyed, before pairing them off to replicate one of one another's shoes. It was an insight into her brand of humour that in doing so she seemed to enjoy, too much, a groan-worthy pun about 'two left feet.'</p><p>The desks cleared to the edges of the large classroom, the students stood in front of one another in rows, spaced out from one end of the room to the other.</p><p>Of course, she wasn't to know the history between the classmates. She wasn't to know that by pairing him with Draco Malfoy she was setting him up for one of the most awkward twenty minutes of his life. <em>Typical...</em></p><p>Still, it was almost inevitable at this point.</p><p>As they faced each other, Malfoy did that thing again - that thing he'd done in <em>Madame Malkin's</em> where he closed his eyes as if in pain and didn't say anything - and bent to untie his shoe. Harry, quickly copied him; his fingers were clumsy with the laces and he took longer than usual to get them undone. It didn't help that he refused to tear his gaze away from Malfoy the whole time.</p><p>Slipping off the shoe, he placed it down in front of him and stood, feeling ridiculous with one snitch-patterned red sock on display.</p><p>"<em>Accio</em> Potter's shoe." Malfoy waved his wand. Harry jumped, both at the sound of his voice and as his shoe slid along the stone floor. They <em>were</em> standing far apart, compared to the other groups.</p><p>He took his own wand out of his sleeve and <em>accio-ed</em> Malfoy's shoe over as well. It practically shot across the room and hit his shin with a thud before falling to the ground. He rubbed his leg. Malfoy was wearing black socks. <em>To go with his black heart...</em></p><p>The ex-Slytherin didn't seem to be interested in speaking any further, so Harry crouched to examine his shoe in more detail. Black, again. Shiny. But not new. Hi picked it up. The sole was worn at the heel, more on one side than the other, and there was a very slight scuff near the toe, filled in with boot polish so it was barely noticeable. Malfoy had laced it with the laces going horizontal, back and forth, rather than diagonally. He looked inside. He could, very faintly, detect his scent. He resisted the peculiar urge to inhale. It was a UK size eleven. Same shoe size. He could put Malfoy's shoe on and it would fit, probably. He was holding Draco Malfoy's bloody shoe. Life was... odd.</p><p>Dr Khatri had described and demonstrated the wrist movement as starting at a relaxed elbow on seventy-five degrees, rotating on the plane to a hundred and eighty, then forward by two inches, back towards the chest in a four-point zig-zag, a swift cut upwards and - at the last minute - a flick of the wand tip down towards the space where the conjured object should appear, ending in a tight anti-clockwise full turn from the lowest point of the circle. It was all on the board in diagram format. At the other side of the room. In tiny, crowded writing. He shrugged. He was pretty sure he had it memorised. He practiced a few times without the incantation, to get the feel of it.</p><p>He wasn't looking at what Malfoy was doing in an attempt to keep himself focused, but the phrase <em>'I'll do it myself if I have to!'</em> circled inside his head like a cawing raven.</p><p>He sighed. <em>Concentrate.</em> He set the shoe slightly to one side in front of him and stared at the square stone paving.</p><p>"<em>Conjurious Appiriat... Replicata!"</em> he tried, one eye on Malfoy's shoe and the other on an empty spot beside it. He waved his wand, a bit too flamboyantly.</p><p>Nothing happened.</p><p>He repeated the movement, this time aiming to more precisely match what Dr Khatri had demonstrated. "<em>Conjurious Appiriat... ReplicaTA!"</em></p><p>The space remained stubbornly empty. He tried again. Again. Again. <em>Again</em>.</p><p>"<em>Conjurious Appiriat... RepliCAta!"</em></p><p>"<em>Conjurious Appiriat... REPLICATA!"</em></p><p>"Potter, for fuck's sake stop shouting!"</p><p>He looked up. Malfoy was glowering at him. There were two left shoes in front of him. Harry couldn't tell which was his original. He stumbled back a step as Malfoy advanced on him.</p><p>"It's... it's <em>'ReplicatOa'</em>. Not 'ReplicatA.' And you need to do the last bit like this." Malfoy tipped his wand almost to the ceiling, pointed it, with his slender index finger held against the length of wood, downward, and drew an infinitesimally small circle.</p><p>'<em>Levi-O-sa...'</em> Harry recalled a young version of Hermione's voice. So maybe he hadn't been listening. The memory brought a grin unbidden to his face.</p><p>Catching sight of it, Malfoy's own face drained of colour except for two ruddy spots on his cheekbones and, as if realising his proximity to Harry, he promptly whirled round and stalked back to the shoes. Harry noticed the front sections on the sides of his shoulder-length hair were pulled back in a loose black cord at the nape of his neck.</p><p>The blonde picked up one of the shoes and wordlessly hover-charmed it over to land at Harry's feet. The boot was blackish grey, more scuff that not, with a heel splattered with mud, worn laces, and a crumply bit in the middle. His were the same shoes he'd worn all day yesterday, he realised, and he'd played Quidditch - wait why was he feeling embarrassed about his shoes in front of Malfoy anyway?</p><p>"Your feet stink, by the way, Potter," Malfoy blurted.</p><p>Harry opened his mouth to hurl an insult right back at him, but Malfoy was already off. He strode over to where the chairs were stood upside-down on the desks, picked one up, walked back a bit, plunked it down and put his socked ankle up onto his right knee. He crossed his arms.</p><p>"Hurry up. I want my shoe back." Closed eyes. Pained expression. Opened eyes. Neutral expression. "Please."</p><p>"Oh. Um. Yeah, well... give me a minute." Harry's brain was a whirlwind. Malfoy wasn't exactly being polite, but for Malfoy? Yeah... he was being polite. The hell?</p><p>He set aside his own shoe and tried to clear his mind. The stone floor was beginning to leach the warmth from his exposed foot. He did his best to ignore the feeling, raised his wand, bent the elbow and-</p><p>"<em>Conjurious Appiriat Replicatoa!"</em></p><p>A black shoe popped into existence and dropped, with a light <em>smack</em>, a few inches to the ground. <em>And Gryffindor has won the Quidditch Cup. The crowd goes wild...</em></p><p>He bent to examine it further. Horizontal laces, size eleven. He'd even got the wear and tear right.</p><p>"Well?"</p><p>"I think... I think I did it."</p><p>Malfoy <em>accio-ed</em> his own shoe back towards him, the offending item whipping past Harry's face. He shoved it on his foot, tied a crude knot, picked up the replicated shoe he'd conjured earlier and headed over to where Dr Khatri was putting out a small fire that had started amongst a hill of misshapen shoes in front of... yes, of course, it was Seamus.</p><p>"I believe I have completed the assignment," Harry overheard as he shoved his now icy cold toes back into his own boot.</p><p>Dr Khatri looked sceptical. "There is 'believe' and there is 'know'. Which is it?"</p><p>"I have completed the assignment."</p><p>"Very good. Let's compare, yes?"</p><p>Harry took his cue and headed over. He held the not-Malfoy's-shoe in a finger and a thumb grip. The pair of them stood side by side, radiating awkwardness like magnets of the same poles actively trying to repel one another. Dr Khatri took both shoes.</p><p>"Legs," she said. Harry wasn't sure what she wanted, but then realised as Malfoy stuck out a foot.</p><p>"Exceptional work. You really paid attention to the details, both of you. It is customary yes, to award points? Five points to Dumbledore. Each. You may leave."</p><p>Her attention was caught by a waving student and she left them to stand there on one foot. Life kept getting... odder. They both started towards the door, Malfoy at a blistering pace.</p><p><em>'I'll do it myself if I have to!'</em> Caw, caw went the raven in his brain. <em>I should say something, right?</em></p><p>"Malfoy I-"</p><p>He slowed, but didn't turn around.</p><p>"I'm watching you," he finished lamely. <em>Oh good, that didn't sound insane at all.</em></p><p>"I hope you die of boredom, then," Malfoy shot over his shoulder as he swept out the door.</p><p>Minutes later, Harry was relieved to get out into the open air. He was standing outside the entrance hall and didn't have to wait long before Ron turned up. The pair of them headed out to Hagrid's hut as Harry told him about his encounter.</p><p>"The git was in my charms class all morning. Wasn't acting strange, but he sure kept quiet. Which is strange for him, actually. So yeah, for sure up to some shady shit," said Ron. Once upon a time, 'shady shit' would've meant something relatively harmless. Nowadays, Harry wasn't so sure.</p><p>Care of Magical Creatures consisted of a small group, with just Ron, Harry, a boy called Oliver Rivers, from Ravenclaw and the burly Hufflepuff with the 'W' name. Turned out it stood for 'Wayne Hopkins'. Within five minutes, Hagrid had them all shucking Good-Fortune clams (they didn't seem particularly fortunate, all piled up in red buckets like that), which, apparently, had something to do with tomorrow's class.</p><p>Feeling he should at least spend the time doing something worthwhile, Harry - aiming for a diplomatic, neutral tone - asked after Hermione.</p><p>"Still not speaking," Ron said, prying his knife between the shells and levering the clam open.</p><p>"Think you ought to talk to her about it?"</p><p>"Gonna have to, aren't I?"</p><p>"After dinner?"</p><p>"Yep."</p><p>There. Harry felt his duty was done in the 'help your best friend with his relationship' department, so he dropped the subject in favour of speculating about Quidditch teams.</p><p>In fact, as luck would have it, as they walked back to the castle Harry finally caught sight of Rolanda Hooch ushering a group of second years from the pitch. Both he and Ron ran to catch up with her.</p><p>"Ah. McGonagall and I were just discussing this yesterday," she said after listening to their flurry of questions, the main one being: <em>'Can we still play on the Gryffindor Quidditch team?'</em></p><p>"I can't go into too much detail now," she continued. "Got this lot to sort and we haven't ironed out the wrinkles yet but the short and short of it is, no."</p><p>
  <em>"What?"</em>
</p><p>She held up a hand. "Let me finish! No you may not play in the Quidditch cup. No you may not play as a House. No you may not play for Gryffindor. However. We have decided that there will be a series of more informal four-aside games running alongside the main games, with mixed teams made up of at least two Houses. Two chasers, a Beater and a Keeper apiece. No team can have more than two people from the same year. Once we've had time to arrange it, there will be sign-up sheets posted. Now I really must be going."</p><p>She walked off before Harry and Ron had a chance to comment. Or protest.</p><p>The next morning, whatever they'd said to one another, Harry was much relieved to find Ron and Hermione sat together once more at the breakfast table. It was still a slightly stiff atmosphere, but definitely an improvement. He slid in opposite them and grabbed a slice of buttered toast from the mountain on Ron's plate.</p><p><em>Still got my Seeker's reflexes,</em> he chucked to himself, as Ron failed to stop him. Shame he wouldn't really be able to use them... still, he and Ron had already decided they were going to form a team with Harry as one of the Chasers and Ron as Keeper. They just needed two more players from another year.</p><p>"-<em>such</em> unbelievable tosh," Hermione was saying. She waved a fork for emphasis. "Harry - hello by the way - I spent all of yesterday afternoon trying to establish a thread of logic in Trelawney's methods and at every turn, <em>every turn</em> there was another pile of bullshit waiting for me. She had a 'vision' that I was destined to become a ruddy <em>flower arranger</em>, for goodness' sake."</p><p>Ron snorted and had to turn it into a cough before he ignited another fight.</p><p>"Speaking of prophecies..." Seamus Finnigan scooched over and slapped a folded copy of the <em>The Daily Prophet</em> down on the table. "Another attack in York. They think it was just two of 'em, but they got away with it. Burned down a small office block that belonged to the Ministry. Some injured, but no deaths this time."</p><p>Hermione paled. The attacks were frequent. Unpredictable. Petty. Bent on vengeance. Less purposeful than they had been under Voldemort. Less organised. In a way, that was just as frightening. And it was the reason she had not returned to her parents over the summer. It was the reason they were still <em>Obliviated</em> and living care-free and childless in Australia. Kingsley Shacklebolt, now the official Minister for Magic, had recommended they stay that way until the unrest died down, and said he would contact her with any significant updates. The systems that allowed the Dark Lord to come to power were not done in yet, even if their cause was a hopeless, bitter one, and they were liable to attack any high-profile vulnerability.</p><p>Ron bit his lip, then wrapped an arm around her shoulder.</p><p>"I just wish I could see them again," she said, a little emptily. She held out a hand and Harry took hold of it. The three of them felt again, for a moment, the weight of the world on their shoulders...</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Shades and Shaves</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>At some point in the last few weeks, attending classes at Hogwarts again had stopped feeling like a weird daydream and started to become a stark, homework-filled reality. Even Professor Sprout wasn't letting up.</p><p>Harry spent most of his days failing to write notes fast enough in class, and failing to read the notes he'd written afterwards due to their illegibility. When his fingertips weren't stained blue from the ink, they were filthy from repotting dozens of baby Spitting Sansevieria - otherwise known as a snake plant, which sadly didn't mean they listened to anything he had to say, in Parseltongue or English. But they couldn't half spit.</p><p>He was really starting to enjoy his Healing classes, though. No-one else had ended up signing on for them, so it was just him and Padma Patil. She was quiet, still, which (unlike when she'd been Ron's date for the Yule ball) suited him fine since that early in the morning he wasn't exactly up for much conversation. Pomfrey often set them tasks they could do together, like mixing salves and practicing diagnostic spells on one another. Turned out she was mildly iron deficient. He had slightly elevated blood-pressure. Go figure.</p><p>On the Saturday after the first two days of class, Ron had arrived in a dreadful mood following his first Animagus class. This was for two reasons. The first - Draco Malfoy was <em>also</em> trying for his Animagus, so that was the whole thing ruined. The second - the first step in the process was to put a mandrake leaf in your mouth for a whole month, from full moon to full moon, and recite an incantation every day. The incantation bit was fine, but...</p><p>He'd held the leaf like it was something he had just scraped off the the bottom of his shoe. Supposedly, it was tough enough to withstand the month-long endeavour. It was a bulbous, dark green pustule, about an inch long.</p><p>"A whole, entire month, Harry. What am I meant to do when I'm eating? And sleeping? And brushing my teeth? It's impossible!"</p><p>Harry did think it sounded like one of those things that seems simple, right up until you try to do it and then it actually turned out to be both difficult and complicated.</p><p>He had chanced on a decent reply, though:</p><p>"Sirius managed it. So I 'spect you can, too. Besides, what if Malfoy gets his Animagus before you do?"</p><p>That'd settled the matter: there was no way <em>that</em> was allowed to happen. So Ron's days weren't so much homework-filled (well, they were but he was ignoring most of it) as filled with a daily, personal battle with... a leaf. This was exacerbated, as ever, by Malfoy, who seemed unperturbed by the whole thing, even though he, too, must have been equally plagued. It helped that he barely spoke a word in anyone's hearing, outside of the cluster of ex-Slytherins who were keeping very much to themselves. Ron, on the other hand, had developed something of a lisp as he worked around the lump in his cheek, which Harry had told him was 'endearing' in mock encouragement.</p><p>A week into term, McGonagall had finally announced the plan outlined by Hooch, with smaller Quidditch 'Friendlies' to take place every other week throughout the year. Filch posted the sign-up sheet on the noticeboard. And then posted it again when Peeves nicked it. The only further stipulation to the rules was that no-one on an existing House team could also be on a Friendly team.</p><p>This meant the pool of good players to choose from was narrow. Not to mention the fact that the allure of a more relaxed opportunity to play the game had proven popular. It was inevitable that many of the Friendly teams were being set up by Dumbledore House's eighth years denied the right to join the proper matches. So, Harry and Ron were up against Dean Thomas, who was forming a team with Susan Bones and a pair of fifth year Gryffindors, as well as another team made up of Terry Boot, Michael Corner and two Ravenclaw girls that Harry was pretty sure had been recruited because the boys fancied them. There were a couple of other teams each containing at least one eighth year, and several more besides. And apparently Theodore Nott had successfully gathered quite a formidable force by recruiting three younger Slytherins to the cause.</p><p>In the end, desperate, they'd approached the only two people they knew well enough to talk to from a younger year that wasn't already on a House team: Dennis Creevey and Luna Lovegood. Dennis had signed up at once. Thankfully, Luna was able to point the pair towards a bombastic fourth year Ravenclaw called Ursula Spence, who was at least more experienced on a broom than Creevey, even if she did talk at a volume normally designated for necromancy. They had agreed to start practicing after classes the next day, which was a Thursday.</p><p>It was for this planned session that Harry was running drills in his head as he walked through the dungeons to the first of his extra-curricular Potions classes with Professor Tang. He'd only ever had a full seven player team to work with, so he was pondering the different moves they would have to employ when he nearly ran straight into Malfoy.</p><p>To the horror of the version of Harry that watched the whole thing play out from the back of his own brain, he had to catch his balance by grabbing the front of Malfoy's robes to stop himself from going sprawling. So you know, he could have had a <em>better</em> start to the day.</p><p>Quickly, he righted himself. He held his breath.</p><p>Instead of the usual insults, hexing and so on, however, Malfoy merely raised an eyebrow, smoothed down his robes - <em>Was that a slight tremor in his hand?</em> - and then glided away. None of which helped with the new thought that had dwarfed any consideration of Quidditch tactics, that being: <em>What is Malfoy doing in the dungeons at ten to eight in the morning?</em></p><p>Except it was nearly five to eight, and he still had to get to Tang's classroom. He forced himself to continue on - at a slight jog - and somehow managed to arrive just before Padma. What followed was a round-table discussion on the theories and applications of dittany, the brown liquid that Hermione had used to close Ron's horrible splinching injury the year before. Thanks to that experience, Harry managed to hold up his end of the conversation quite well, he thought, even with 'half his brain' focused on the task.</p><p>The only trouble was, he had the whole rest of the morning in the dungeons before he had time to race back to his room, whisper "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good", and locate Malfoy on the Marauder's Map aaaand he was in the Great Hall. Having lunch. Obviously. His head hit the small desk's surface. Still, sneaking around the dungeons was surely a sign that something was up?</p><p>From her vivarium, Harry heard Severina hiss quietly. He muttered a quick "Mischief managed" over the map and went over to the end of his bed. As he had taken to doing, he let her slither around his arm and up to encircle his neck.</p><p>"Sssomething bothering you?" she enquired.</p><p>He sighed.</p><p>"Yeah."</p><p>And he explained to her some of the history behind his and Malfoy's animosity: the failed attempt at friendship, the suspicion, the hatred, and the confusion, too. It came back to when he'd recognised him in the Malfoy Manor, but chosen not to say so. That moment he had played over and over, turning it this way and that, trying to find the angle where it made sense. Severina listened, or at the very least didn't interrupt his rambling. He wasn't sure if snakes could make much sense of human relationships.</p><p>Still, going over it all like that was revealing in itself. Their lives had been tightly intertwined for years, and yet - did he even really know who Draco Malfoy was? He wasn't as sure now as he'd once been.</p><p>He <em>was</em> sure that he was sorry to have missed lunch, not just because his stomach rumbled through the afternoon's classes, but he learned in Care of Magical Creatures that Ron and Hermione had gotten into yet another fight during the break.</p><p>Ron refused to tell him what the fight was about this time, so Harry didn't even have an opportunity to try to bridge the gap. He kept trying throughout their uninspiring team practice (a team that Creevey had requested be called 'Colin's Clan', which was an awful name that both he and Ron practically spoke over one another to agree to), but Ron wasn't budging. And Hermione, once again, avoided them both and sat with Luna during dinner, braving the glare from Headmistress McGonagall at the staff table. The witch was most disapproving of the eighth years migrating back to their original House tables to eat, but since this was an ex-Gryffindor at the Ravenclaw table she was clearly torn about putting a stop to it.</p><p>Unable to break this deadlock, Harry returned to his previous train of thought: Malfoy. On the right-hand side of the Dumbledore table, the *ex-*Slytherins (he had trouble thinking of them as anything other than 'Slytherins' really, but maybe he should settle for something else... 'the slimy gits'?) were once again huddled in a bubble of silence. The heated arguments, if that was what they were, seemed to have petered out in favour of close, intense discussion, with Nott and Malfoy on one side of the table and Zabini, Parkinson and Greengrass on the other. Zabini, despite not adding much, seemed to be the focal point. Harry noticed they all kept looking at him as the spoke. There was something...</p><p>Harry pulled off his glasses and spelled them clean. Smudge-free (how did they always get so dirty?), he peered at the olive-skinned Italian again.</p><p>There was something... different about him. It was impossible to pinpoint an exact thing. His hair had grown? Not something Harry would have normally noticed, but maybe... maybe he'd lost weight? Whatever it was, his cheekbones stood more starkly against his shiny black locks, his face was slimmer, even his shoulders were less defined. Was he sick? If he was, it couldn't have been anything too bad, given he was now grinning at Malfoy and that smile made him practically glow... oh, and he was reaching out, he was holding Malfoy's <em>hand</em>, he was giving him a slightly watery look of gratitude and warmth that was completely foreign on a face that was normally curled into a sneer, and Malfoy was saying something in return and Harry was starting to wonder if they <em>had</em> cast <em>Muffliato</em> after all because his ears were roaring.</p><p>"What the actual fuck is happenin' over <em>there?</em>" Ron said, clearly also seeing what Harry was seeing. Not a hallucination, then.</p><p>"No idea."</p><p>"Whatever it is, I hate to see Malfoy that... happy? It's pro'ly 'cause they've figured out th- <em>some</em> way to burn the school down or murder the new Defence Against the Dark Arts profeth- <em>professor</em> or something equally, uh, ne-far-ious."</p><p>The last word he managed only with heroic effort, the mandrake leaf running interference with every syllable.</p><p>It was true: now, Malfoy was beaming at Zabini. A wildly disconcerting sight. The hand-holding was interrupted as Greengrass' bored façade cracked. She cheered and pulled Zabini into a crushing hug from the side.</p><p>"No matter what's going on with them, it can't be good," Harry had agreed.</p><p>Ron and Harry had then spent the next few weeks, in any spare moment they weren't in class, tracking the ex-Slytherins' movements on the Marauder's map. Erratic was one word for it. Zabini was in the hospital wing for at least an hour two evenings a week. Greengrass and Parkinson were spending an awful lot of time in the boy's dorm room, which Harry tried not to think too hard about. Maybe they were studying? He shuddered, the thought of Parkinson's naked body writhing over Malfoy was probably a worse sight than if he'd awoken to a giant spider intent on liquidising him for dinner.</p><p>And Malfoy? He was the least predictable of the lot of them. In the dungeons even earlier than Harry half the week - he clearly chose a different route out given Harry hadn't bumped into him since their first encounter down there - and then also the hospital wing, once or twice, with Zabini. And then, where was he not? Ron had commented more than once that either Draco was planning something, or he was practicing for a marathon. The boy seemed to be ping-ponging all over the castle. The corridor near the Astronomy Tower; the fifth floor; the seventh floor; outside the staff room; a disused corridor in the West Wing that Harry was pretty sure was more hole than corridor, still; the place where the hourglasses that counted the House points was (when they checked, there was a new one with a handful of turquoise glass beads in it - Dumbledore House was its own worst enemy, losing itself nearly as many points as it gained); the kitchens; often, outside the Muggles studies classroom on the first floor; and half a dozen other places.</p><p>Harry knew not to broach the subject with Pomfrey, however. He wanted to ask her, given Zabini and Malfoy's trips to the hospital wing. But she had previously expounded, at length, on the importance of Healer-patient confidentiality. Harry felt he should respect her words given his ambitions, though his inner goblin was screeching mad about the whole thing.</p><p>Between worrying about whatever mysterious thing was going on with Malfoy, Zabini and the others; news of attack after attack in the papers; mounting piles of homework; reading he was behind on, and the ongoing rift between his best friends, which seemed to wax and wane over the weeks but never quite repair, Harry found the frequency and intensity of his nightmares were escalating, so that most every night he was left wide-eyed and sweating. By the time the start of October rolled around, he decided enough was enough. At least he could try to do <em>something</em> about <em>one</em> of his problems.</p><p>"Uhh, lemon sherbet?" he tried, feeling stupid. The gargoyle merely stared at him, impassive.</p><p>
  <em>Surely there must be some way to-</em>
</p><p>"I need to talk to Headmistress McGonagall," he told the gargoyle. "Is there a way to tell her I'm here?"</p><p>"Yes."</p><p>"Umm. What is it?"</p><p>"You've never asked before." Its voice was dispiriting and monotone. "Just press my nose," the gargoyle said.</p><p>Harry did so and heard a chime ring up the staircase. Moments later the gargoyle stepped aside and he took the stairs two at a time.</p><p>The Headmistress' office was both much the same as it had been, and different. McGonagall had a lot more books around the place. And no Fawkes. Fawkes had flown away month before, and none of them were certain the phoenix would ever return.</p><p>"Harry?" she enquired from the desk, as, at the same time, the portrait of Dumbledore burst into life.</p><p>"My boy!" Dumbledore wheezed.</p><p>Harry grinned. "Dumbledore!" He'd seen him around the castle a few times, visiting other portraits. It was nice, having him around and about.</p><p>"I wouldn't plan on stealing Vance's toffee crisps. She's been booby-trapping that tin for days. And cackling. A lot," he warned.</p><p>"Hmm. Ah. Blast."</p><p>"Can I help you, Harry?" McGonagall said.</p><p>Harry walked over. "I- I'm here because of Malfoy, actually. And yeah. I hear how that sounds."</p><p>"Indeed."</p><p>"And Zabini. There's something odd going on with them. And Malfoy's been-"</p><p>"Let me stop you there, Potter. In actual fact, I am aware of exactly what has been going on. What <em>is</em> going on."</p><p>"Oh." <em>Another point in the 'Hermione's always right' column.</em></p><p>"And, for once, it's really none of your business."</p><p>"But-"</p><p>"I know. I know the history. Believe me. I understand the need for caution and I understand why you are here. If anything, I expected you sooner.</p><p>"However. And I can't emphasise this enough - I am perfectly aware of the reasons for their behaviour and am also equally bound by confidentiality not to divulge anything further to you, or anyone else. Nothing more than to say" - and here, she softened - "that you really don't need to worry, Harry. I'm sure it will all come out soon enough.</p><p>"Concentrate on your studies. Spend time with your friends. Live a little. I can't give you back a childhood you never had, but I can, for one year at least, offer you a place at Hogwarts without a dangerous lunatic plotting to ruin the sanctity of our home. My home. Yours. Enjoy it while you can. Leave me to keep an eye on things. I <em>am</em> paying attention."</p><p>"I..." He deflated. "Fine."</p><p>"It <em>is</em> fine." Her eyes glittered.</p><p>"You need a distraction, Harry. I hear you are a young, single gentleman again. Perhaps it's time to go on a few dates, hmm?"</p><p>Later, Harry was watching Ron fly over the Great Lake and wondering if it was wise to <em>obliviate</em> oneself. Surely the risk of permanent memory loss was a marked improvement on being able to recall McGonagall giving <em>him</em> dating advice.</p><p>Ron finally landed. It was getting a little colder, the evenings darker. The air was damp from an earlier downpour. Ron was bundled in a damp hat and scarf, a bag on his shoulder and his Cleansweep in one hand. His nose and cheeks were pink, not now from sunburn, but from the chill. Harry noticed his icy blue eyes looked tired, yet he could tell his best friend was in a much better mood than when he'd left the day before.</p><p>"How's George?"</p><p>"Not bad. Could be worse. The th- <em>same</em> as ever. Merlin I can't wait to spit this thing out tomorrow. He told me to tell you a truly pornographic joke, but didn't specify which one. "</p><p>"I think I'm good."</p><p>Ron had been escaping the fraught atmosphere of his and Hermione's relationship by apparating the long distance from Hogsmeade to the shop on Diagon Alley after his Animagus classes most Saturdays. He would return on Sunday evening, as he was doing now, so Harry hadn't been able to spend as much time with him as he would've liked lately. Still, he admired how hard Ron was working, even if it wasn't for his school work. And the fact that he was willing to apparate so frequently, even after the terrible splinching he'd suffered in the past. He should probably tell him that. Yeah. Somehow. <em>How do you tell your friend you're proud of them without it sounding... uhh... massively awkward?</em></p><p>As they walked up the stone steps, the braziers lit themselves all around them. He told Ron about what McGonagall had said, instead - well, some of it - and was gratified at Ron's immediate and unprompted outrage, which continued through the corridors and as they entered the warmth of the Den.</p><p>"-definitely utter shite. And another thing is-" Ron stopped dead. Hermione was sat on the grey chesterfield sofa by the fire. She caught sight of them both and waved, her eyebrows slanted upward in a concerned expression. Ron turned beet red and stormed up the stairs.</p><p>Harry rolled his eyes. <em>"Seriously?"</em> he mouthed at Hermione.</p><p>She put down her book and came over.</p><p>"Before you go up," she started, looking sorrowful. "Could you... could you maybe tell him I'd like to talk? Not now. He must be exhausted. At some point? Maybe after classes tomorrow or something?"</p><p>"Can I ask what's going on?" Harry said, not for the first time.</p><p>She blushed and spoke in hushed tones: "I- It's private, really. Or more like... I think I would make it worse if I told you. Waaay worse. I <em>have</em> told him to talk to you. You're his best friend and you really should be able to- well, <em>discuss</em> these sorts of things. I don't blame him. I would never. It's the last thing..."</p><p>She paused, looked away, holding back tears.</p><p>"It's truly the last thing I'd want to do. He blames himself though and that's the worst of it. I love him, Harry. I do. I hate this. I hate that I know how he's feeling and I can't help...</p><p>"Maybe you <em>should</em> speak to him, if you can? Just... oh, just please be kind about it? Oh <em>of course</em> you would be kind. No, that's not what I mean. I mean if he does choose to tell you, which he might not and that's fine... just... take it seriously, I suppose? You're all he's got, Harry. He probably can't talk to anyone <em>but</em> you. And he certainly won't talk to <em>me</em>."</p><p><em>What. The hell. Is going on?</em> Harry thought.</p><p>"What about George? Could he not talk to him?"</p><p>She giggled. Sniffed. "Oh my. Least of all him," she said, cryptically.</p><p>Harry trudged up the stairs and entered the dorm, feeling nervous. it was still early enough in the evening that the other boys weren't in there, so when he opened the door he found Ron, alone, sat in the purple armchair by the small fire. He had changed out of the magenta robe that clashed magnificently with his Weasley hair and was the uniform for the <em>Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes</em>. Now, he was in an old T-shirt and joggers, with bare feet sunk into the wool rug in front of him.</p><p>Harry sat on the sofa and ran his hands through his thick black hair.</p><p>"Ron..."</p><p>"Can you help me with somethin'?" he asked, suddenly.</p><p>Harry started.</p><p>"What. Um. Yeah?"</p><p>"Cool. Sorry, it's a bit weird..."</p><p>
  <em>Oh good. This day couldn't get much weirder.</em>
</p><p>"Could you shave my head?" Ron asked.</p><p>He indicated with a gesture that he meant the sides where his red hair was cropped short, but had grown out a bit over the last few weeks.</p><p>"Oh! Ah - will I be able to do that?"</p><p>Ron laughed. "If Ginny managed it over the th - <em>fuck!</em> - <em>summer</em>, I reckon you can't do much worse. It's cutting what's already cut, but I can't reach all of it myself and... yeah. It looks a bit daft at the minute. Don't need to do the top though, I'm growing that out."</p><p>"Sure, then. I guess. How do we... what do we need to do?"</p><p>Ron got up and riffled in his chest of drawers for a small leather pouch. Then, he and Harry went into the washroom. Ron dragged the wooden stool that they used to reach the top of the linen closet over to a sink, sat down and handed Harry the bag. Sitting, he was low enough to the tiled floor that only the top of his forehead could be seen in the mirror facing them. He untied the longer part of his hair from its usual <em>samurai</em> bun and retied it again in a funny little top knot.</p><p>"Razor's in there. Careful. It's sharp. And the bar foams up. Softens the hair - makes it easier. You just apply it with the brush thing. Then you either go with the grain or against the grain or whatever that means. I can't remember. It'll make sense when you do it, I imagine. Sorry this is such a strange thing to ask. Err... so. You ok?"</p><p>He spoke carefully. After a month with the damn mandrake leaf in his mouth, he had pretty much learned how to talk normally again. Apart from the occasional thlip- <em>slip</em> up.</p><p>"Harry?"</p><p>'<em>You're all he's got, Harry.'</em></p><p>"Yeah, I- Yeah."</p><p>Harry busied himself rinsing the brush. He rubbed the bristles into the bar. Sure enough, it foamed up into a creamy consistency, which he slicked onto Ron's head in slow, sweeping movements. That done, he reached around and set the brush down on the counter. Then, he pulled out the razor and flicked it open. It was a single blade, wicked sharp and gleaming.</p><p>"There's a guard. You clip it on," Ron said, quietly.</p><p>"Oh."</p><p>Harry felt around inside the pouch and found the small piece of metal, which he attached to the blade. It looked less threatening, now.</p><p>"Err... ready?"</p><p>"Yeah."</p><p>Harry wasn't sure where to start, so he went for a spot just above Ron's left ear. He put a towel on one shoulder and his hand on the other to steady himself. Then, drew the blade up and around. It glided effortlessly through the foam, picking it up as he went. He wiped the blade on the towel. Pulled the razor around Ron's head again, this time going for a bigger section, and where the guarded blade had been, Ron's hair was cut to the barest stubble. Not quite completely shaved to the skin, but close. It was kind of... satisfying.</p><p>"So... me and Hermione," Ron said. Harry looked up but couldn't see his face in the mirror. He decided to keep going and continued drawing the razor through Ron's hair. Waiting.</p><p>"Um. We've been having uhh... trouble. Like the fighting and stuff, it's 'cause... it's not..."</p><p>Harry reached the back of Ron's neck and Ron, feeling him there, bent his head forward so his chin was tucked into his chest. He kept talking.</p><p>"It's like... we had this big thing happen. And we got together and it's amazing and she's amazing and I love her. Like I really love her. And yeah we fight, but we've always got each others backs, you know? It's like... I can be myself around her and she can be herself and we don't have to act any different than what we want to, except-"</p><p>Harry had finished with the first side. He swapped the towel over to the other shoulder and used his other hand to gently tip Ron's head to the side. He carried on, shaving more slowly this time now that he was using the wrong hand.</p><p>"Except then we started... you know. Doing stuff."</p><p>Harry remembered them at the Burrow. They could barely keep their hands off one another, as he recalled. Snogging in the halls, canoodling the garden, holding hands...</p><p>"And like. Wow. That was brilliant, too. I know before, me and Lav- well, yeah. Best not. Um. But yeah, with 'Mione the kissing and th- the touching. It was <em>bloody</em> brilliant. Sorry I should err... stop... or uhh..."</p><p>Harry, heroically, said nothing. He hoped Ron couldn't see his face in the mirror, because it was pillarbox red from ear to ear.</p><p>"I know she's like a sister to you so, like, don't get mad or um... but yeah, that all worked <em>just fine.</em> And then, well we were fighting about all the stupid shit with the shop and N.E.W.T.s and we never really figured that out but we kinda just... stopped talking about it, I guess? And it was easier. Easier just to not talk and like... try doing other things, right? But... it wasn't. Easier. It was harder. And things didn't work <em>just fine.</em>"</p><p>Ron tipped his head again as he felt the razor move down. Harry carefully carved out the 'V' of the longer hairs at the back. He held one thumb against Ron's neck to keep the hair in place so he didn't catch anything he shouldn't. Ron was silent, for a bit. Harry prompted him with a light push to raise his head again so he could finish the last few bits near the top.</p><p>"Have you ever had sex, Harry?"</p><p>Harry jumped. The blade nicked Ron's scalp, and a bead of blood bubbled up and started to trickle towards his ear.</p><p>"Sorry!" he said as Ron winced. He pulled his wand from his waistband and muttered a quick healing spell. The blood he wiped away, along with some foam, with the towel. Underneath, there was no sign of injury. He picked up the razor in his left hand again, shaking slightly.</p><p>"You're getting good at that," Ron commented. "Can't feel nothing anymore."</p><p>"Thanks."</p><p>"Is... I don't know that I <em>want</em> to know, but is um. Sex stuff the reason you and Ginny broke up?"</p><p>Harry tried not to slice anything he shouldn't this time.</p><p>"Um. What do you mean?"</p><p>"Like... like not being able to...arg. <em>Fuck.</em> Right. Not being able to perform. Dick not working. Not a damn thing occurring. Downstairs. That."</p><p>Harry chewed his lip as he cut the last section of hair on the side of Ron's head. "Umm. No."</p><p>"Oh," Ron said, sounding a bit... closed off.</p><p>"I'll tell you, but um. Don't punch me or anything," Harry said, quickly. He folded the towel over so the blood was on the inside and wiped the rest of the foam off.</p><p>"Ha. If I punch you, you can tell Seamus every word of what I just said, then."</p><p>Harry's eyes bulged. "Deal," he said.</p><p>"So. So tell me."</p><p>"OK. So s-sex was part of it. Sort of. But it wasn't the problem. The problem was like... the opposite, I guess?" Harry considered his next few words.</p><p>"The whole relationship felt weird every time we tried to talk, or I guess be romantic and stuff. Like... we were different shaped puzzle pieces. Or something. But then we'd have sex and it felt fantastic and amazing and like, wow. Sorry. It was the only bit that made sense. And I didn't want Ginny to feel like I was using her, for like, just sex. So I broke up with her - well not exactly. She felt the same, in the end, too, but um. Yeah."</p><p>Ron craned his neck around to look up at Harry through raised eyebrows.</p><p>
  <em>"You two actually had SEX?"</em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>*Cackles wildly* Finally. Finally I got to write that wee scene. Ayayayay.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Are you a Chaser, Now?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>"Avada Kedavra!"</em>
</p><p>Green light lanced through the darkness as Harry watched, helpless. Cedric Diggory fell. To his horror, the body began to twitch on the ground - it rose, staggering, head at an unnatural angle, a terrible, rotting face, flesh dropping from jutted bones, coming closer and closer and the yellow, stinking teeth were pointed like fangs, and there was nothing he could-</p><p>Harry hurtled upward and bashed foreheads with Ron, who was, like Diggory's corpse, looming over him.</p><p>"Ow!"</p><p>"Fuck!"</p><p>"What the hell, Ron?" Harry said, clutching his head (a disturbingly familiar motion).</p><p>"<em>Godric</em> - you were yelling bloody murder. Jus' came to check you were OK, s'all," Ron said. He had one eye closed and was also holding his hand to his forehead.</p><p>"M'goin' back to bed..." he added and disappeared back behind the curtains. Harry heard him mutter the incantation <em>'Amato Animo Animato Animagus'</em> under his breath, as he had done every day over the last month.</p><p>He patted the bedside table for his glasses. He shoved them on his nose and checked his watch - it was a bit early yet, but he figured he might as well get up and head to Pomfrey's.</p><p>Pleased with his promptness, Madam Pomfrey tasked him with slicing, to a variety of depths and lengths, the skin of several oranges. When he finished, they looked as if they had been mauled by a ferocious beaver.</p><p>When Padma arrived, they both set about repairing the cuts as neatly as possible. After, Harry felt pleased, certain his patients had survived their ordeal. Though they had suffered no inconsiderable blood loss - or juice loss - as his robes and hands remained noticeably citrussy even after a round of cleaning spells.</p><p>He arrived at the Great Hall to find most of the school had left already. There were just a few people finishing their breakfast - not entirely unusual given it was ten minutes before the start of class. However, Professor Collins was stood by the Dumbledore table. He waved at him. Today, he was sporting a checked blazer worn in what Harry thought of as 'wizarding style', this time meaning: inside-out. With a fringe along the hem. And a popped collar.</p><p>"Got a note for you."</p><p>Harry raised an eyebrow as he handed him a small scroll of parchment. It read, in neat calligraphy:</p><p>
  <em>NOTICE: Due to the time-sensitive activities of the Animagus programme, the services of Transfigurations teacher, Dr Khatri, and Potions Master, Professor Tang, are required to assist myself, Headmistress McGonagall, and the eighth year students involved. This will be to prepare the ingredients needed for tonight's potion-making. And, to practice the delicate process that will define the movement to the next phase. Congratulations are in order for those who have managed to complete the first stage of their journey.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>As such, if you have morning classes in either of the above subjects you are permitted private study for the duration. Please spend this time wisely.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Headmistress McGonagall</em>
</p><p>Harry had known Ron was getting his morning classes off, but he hadn't realised <em>he</em> would benefit, too. He cheered internally.</p><p>
  <em>Excellent. Maybe I could get a nap in...</em>
</p><p>"Finished? Yes?" Collins asked.</p><p>"Your friend, Finnigan was just here. He asked me to let you know that he'd be in the library if you'd like to join him. Something about a 'Freakishly Impossible Transfiguration essay' that you are both required to submit by Wednesday?"</p><p>Ah. Yes. The essay that was only a quarter done, and that was sitting on his desk still. The essay he had intended on working on last night, but then he'd spent the whole evening reassuring Ron about his... 'little issue.'</p><p>He blushed.</p><p>"Oh, uh. Thanks, Professor."</p><p>"Most welcome. Good luck with your assignment." The Muggle Studies professor pottered away.</p><p>Harry decided, at the very least, he was going to enjoy a leisurely breakfast rather than his usual rushed affair on a Monday.</p><p>Half an hour later, and feeling somewhat sleepy after consuming a large portion of scrambled eggs, bacon, sausages, and toast (he hadn't touched the orange juice; somehow, it felt wrong after a morning healing the damned things), he made his way up to the Dumbledore Den intending to fetch his Transfiguration homework and, begrudgingly, join Seamus in the library.</p><p>The place was deserted. He headed up the stairs, pushed open the dorm-room door, flung his bag to the side, and looked up to catch an eyeful of sweat-soaked, writhing, naked flesh.</p><p>Eyes screwed shut, Dean Thomas was leaning against a bedpost. His head was thrown back. The curve of his neck, accentuated. His dark, muscular shoulders and chest revealing - with his shirt torn open, his tie hanging loose - raw purple marks that trailed down towards his navel. Trousers around his ankles, his hips thrust languidly, insistently... and a familiar red-head, topless, was kneeling at his feet, hands planted on his thighs, mouth wrapped around a straining, hard-</p><p>Harry slammed his eyes shut. Unfortunately, he'd let go of the door, which, too, slammed shut behind him.</p><p>He heard a <em>pop</em> that was all too familiar. Suction, released.</p><p>"So <em>good</em> whadidya stop f-" Harry heard Dean start to say.</p><p>Then: "Oh FUCK. Oh fucking. Fuck. Shit. SHIT."</p><p>He couldn't see anything already, but he pressed his palms over his closed eyes anyway. Then had the thought that he should probably leave. <em>Like right now.</em> So he backed towards the wall, trying to feel his way to the door, pawing at the stone blindly with one hand while covering his eyes with the other.</p><p>Dean was still swearing. Harry could hear the swift rustling of fabric and the clink of a belt being pulled up.</p><p>
  <em>Where the fuck? A-ha the doorframe. Now to find the bloody handle...</em>
</p><p>"Harry?"</p><p>
  <em>Nope, nope, nope...</em>
</p><p>"I'M JUST LEAVING. DIDN'T SEE A THING. SORRY!"</p><p>"Ha... Merlin's sake, Harry, to your left. For crying out loud," Ginny said, then burst into hysterical giggles. "Oh fucking hell. Sorry you had to see that."</p><p>"NOT TO WORRY. DIDN'T SEE, GIN," he continued yelling as he groped for the handle. Finding it, he opened the heavy wooden door just wide enough to sidle through.</p><p>"And maybe knock next time!" she shouted as he slipped out onto the balcony.</p><p>"YEP, CERTAINLY WILL," was all Harry could manage in reply. <em>Or, I dunno, LOCKING THE DOOR was surely an option here, right?</em></p><p>Minutes later, Harry sat down in the library, empty-handed.</p><p>"Hey."</p><p>"Oh have you not started any of it yet? Phew, here I thought <em>I</em> was in trouble, like," Seamus said. He was surrounded by balled up sheets of discarded parchment.</p><p>Harry turned to him, eyes glazed as if in a dream.</p><p>
  <em>Let's go with: no. File that under: not worth going back up there for a thousand sickles.</em>
</p><p>"Harry?"</p><p><em>Obliviating myself is sounding better and better,</em> he mused.</p><p>"Yeah. No. Really gotta focus on it, for sure."</p><p>
  <em>And purge my mind of all other thoughts, like the way Thomas' hips had rocked against Ginny's eager mouth and...</em>
</p><p>"Hey, err... can I borrow some parchment?"</p><p>The next weekend, Harry, Ron, Dennis Creevey and the fourth year named Ursula had their first Friendly against a group of younger Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws, who went under the team name 'The Mighty Skrewts'.</p><p>Ursula clearly knew a couple of them, so she spent as much time batting the bludger their way as she did hurling increasingly personal insults. The game ended with a clear victory for Colin's Clan, though Harry felt the win was a bit hollow given one of the other team's Chasers had started to cry after his bolshie teammate had mentioned something to do with her body odour and an embarrassing incident with a boy called 'Wishaw'.</p><p>It was fun, in any case. Even if he was playing as a Chaser and not a Seeker. In a way, it was enjoyable to be so involved throughout the whole game, instead of spending most of it searching for a tiny golden ball. Still, he missed the intensity of the chase. Especially to be up against another Seeker, battling with skills and wits in a one-one-one race. And that feeling of reaching out and grabbing that elusive snitch - there wasn't much that could compare.</p><p>Once everyone had left, he and Ron packed up their equipment and headed up to the castle. During the week, Ron had spent a lot more time in Hermione's company again, thank goodness. They were talking with one another, finally, for which Harry was very grateful. He wasn't sure exactly where they stood, given he wasn't involved in their boyfriend-girlfriend chats, but it was a definite improvement on the fighting. And, for now anyway, given he didn't feel obliged to escape the castle at any chance, Ron had decided not to go to the shop that weekend. That was why they'd put their team forward for one of the hour-long matches that were running that Sunday, even though it was still a bit soon for the two new fliers.</p><p>And when it came to discussing... certain topics... well, it was like the floodgates had opened since their initial chat. In fact, sex was pretty much <em>all</em> Ron wanted to talk about. So much so, that what had started as an awkward conversation was now so routine that Harry felt almost like he was talking about the weather or... gardening.</p><p>He did, however, try to err on the side of the mechanics, as it were. Details, without specifics. Actions, not feelings. There was an unspoken agreement that when they referred to 'girls' neither of them - of course - meant Ginny or Hermione. Just anonymous, hypothetical girls. And what exactly you were meant to do with one of them. They were casually discussing this as they headed for the Den.</p><p>"Do girls actually <em>like</em> sucking cock?"</p><p>Then again, there were questions like <em>that</em>.</p><p>Harry, having vowed to never, ever, tell Ron about the scene he'd walked in on in the dorms, nevertheless used it, along with memories of his own experiences, to assure him, that yes, they very much did. <em>And one day, when I'm ninety and senile, I'll finally be able to look Dean Thomas in the eye again...</em></p><p>"Huh. Can't see the appeal, really. I mean, it's not a very attractive thing, is it? And, like, surely that gets uncomfortable after a while..."</p><p>They arrived at Vance's portrait.</p><p>"<em>Wysteria</em>. Oh no it's changed, hasn't it? Uhh..." Harry rubbed the back of his head.</p><p>"<em>Crepuscular</em>," Ron remembered.</p><p>"Lovely stuff," the witch said, approvingly.</p><p>The portrait swung open and they climbed through. The Den was relatively busy. The Patil twins and Lisa Turpin had enchanted a small statuette of a knight and were giggling away to themselves as it professed its love to all three of them in a gravelly yet squeaky voice. Terry Boot and Michael Corner had monopolised the seating area by the fire for a game of wizard's chess. And the ex-Hufflepuff girls were studying at the table in the corner.</p><p>Harry and Ron went upstairs and changed out of their gear. As they came back out onto the balcony, however, they found their route down the stairs blocked. Blocked by a black trunk and a teetering pile of bags.</p><p>Ron peered over the top of them, and, seeing no-one, shouted down over the banister.</p><p>"Oi! What's this all doing here?"</p><p>Others were also staring up at them, games and other activities paused.</p><p><em>Have we missed something?</em> Harry thought.</p><p>Terry Boot waved. He cupped a hand around his mouth and yelled back: "Well. Looks to me like one of the Slytherins are moving out!" He sounded like he couldn't be more delighted.</p><p>"Malfoy?" Ron whipped around to Harry. "D'you think?"</p><p>Harry shrugged.</p><p>Just then the door beside them opened - the door to the boys' dorm where Malfoy, Zabini and Nott slept - and the blonde himself emerged, holding yet another bag.</p><p>"Brilliant!" Ron said, grinning. "Finally. Oh this is Christmas come early. Here, can I help you with that?"</p><p>"What?" Malfoy frowned at him. "I don't have time for your stupid games, Weasel."</p><p>"I'm not even mad. Call me 'Weasel' all the way out the damn door. Hear you're leaving. Get expelled then, did you? Death Eater past caught up with you did it? Or did you try something naughty and McGonagall caught you, eh? Bet that was it. Thought you were clever. Thought you were off scot-free."</p><p>"No."</p><p>"Wonder what 'father' will think? Or will he disown you? I reckon he might. Or wait, is he still in prison? I haven't been keeping track. Was it five months? Or five <em>years</em> he got?"</p><p>Malfoy dropped the bag and advanced on Ron with his wand. Harry, unthinking, stepped between them, stopping him short. He held his gaze. Saw the storm brewing in his ice grey eyes as Malfoy glared at him. He spoke through gritted teeth.</p><p>"Tell your fucking lackey, Potter. To back. The fuck. Off."</p><p>"He's not my lackey."</p><p>Harry felt Ron side-step behind him and held out an arm to hold him back as well.</p><p>
  <em>This... is not good.</em>
</p><p>"Don't start something you're not prepared to finish," Malfoy shot over his shoulder at Ron.</p><p>"Oh I'm ready when you are."</p><p>Malfoy growled. Then, to Harry's shock, he lowered his wand and straightened. Closed eyes, pained expression, open eyes. The grey became more like a winter sea: still, vast, cold.</p><p>"I am not leaving. I am simply helping my friend. Get out of the way. Please."</p><p>"Helping with what?" Harry blurted.</p><p>Malfoy sighed.</p><p>A voice from inside the room said, "Helping me move, is what, Potter."</p><p>Zabini emerged, holding himself straight like a matador about to enter the bull ring. Harry and Ron backed away a few steps so he would have room to stand beside Malfoy. And Harry could feel his brain trying to comprehend a dozen tiny differences in the boy's appearance. Differences that had been stacking up...</p><p>
  <em>Didn't he used to be... taller than Malfoy?</em>
</p><p>"Move? Where?" Ron asked, curiosity getting the better of him.</p><p>Malfoy's whole attention pivoted towards the Italian. His tone lowered.</p><p>"Are you certain about this?"</p><p>"Not the people I'd care to know, but everyone will soon enough, Draco. It's what I want. Not to mention it's inevitable." Zabini smirked at the pair of ex-Gryffindors. "If they can handle it. They may faint, what do you think?"</p><p>"The fuck you say?" Ron bristled. He raised a fist.</p><p>"Shut up, Weasel. Grown-ups are talking."</p><p>Something clicked in Harry's head. A feeling like lightning ran through his whole body. His heart pounded. Shit. Not good. Not fucking good if-</p><p>"Are... are you really Blaise Zabini?" Harry asked. He pulled him wand from his sleeve and trained it on them. "Polyjuice? Like Crouch? Don't move a goddamn muscle, by the way."</p><p>"Fucking hell, yeah. Nice one, Harry," Ron said, also pulling out his wand. "I thought there was something different about him. Jig's up, fuckers. Whoever you are, you're definitely not meant to be inside bloody Hogwarts that's for sure. You've got about five seconds before I <em>stupefy</em> the pair of you slimy gits."</p><p>Instead of drawing his own wand, Malfoy - strangely - smiled.</p><p>"Oh yes. Genius you are, Potter. I'm only sorry I come second in bowing obsequiously to your intellect behind the drooling half-troll here." He laughed, a short, sharp bark.</p><p>Zabini was laughing, too.</p><p>"Oh, well we should give it to them, really. I am not <em>Blaise</em> Zabini."</p><p>"Of course," Malfoy sneered. "Points for effort. Medal for showing up. Participation prize."</p><p>The pair of them sniggered together, seeming not to care that they were at wandpoint.</p><p>Harry became impatient. "Just tell us what the hell you're talking about, or we'll hex you into next week."</p><p>Just then Pansy Parkinson called from across the room. She was stood on the girls' side of the balcony with Nott and Greengrass lurking behind her.</p><p>"Yoo hoo, darlings, would you please hurry up with these idiots? We're all ready here." She waved.</p><p>"When did the Slytherins grow their balls back?" Ron whispered in Harry's ear.</p><p>He was right - they'd been very quiet the last month. And now... now it was like they were back to their old selves, strutting about the place, insulting people, being loud and obnoxious and rude. What was going on?</p><p>"There in a moment, Pans," Zabini called.</p><p>"Look," he said. "I don't expect you to understand, nor do I care if you do, but it seems like unlike you two, we've actually moved on with our lives. I'm about as preoccupied with carrying on the legacy of the Dark Lord as I am with Hufflepuff mating rituals.</p><p>"We've all got our scars. We've all got our nice little box of trauma that we can open up and show to the class. We've all got fucking regrets, and might I remind you, we are all innocent in the eyes of the law. And I've been told what to be and who to be and what to think for quite long enough. So you can <em>excuse</em> me for exercising my right to choose, for once. So no. This is for your information so you don't actually do something idiotic, though it's <em>absolutely</em> none of your business. No. I am not 'Blaise Zabini.'"</p><p>He sucked in a breath. Harry saw Malfoy's hand reach to close the gap between them, as if to touch his wrist, before falling to his side again.</p><p>"I am <em>Blair</em> Zabini."</p><p>There was a pause. Harry could feel the listening ears of half the eighth years trained on their tense conversation. He didn't let his wand drop in any case and was just considering what to say when Ron jumped in.</p><p>"What? Like his cousin or something?"</p><p>"No you moron," Malfoy shot back. "This <em>is</em> the same Zabini. AND <em>her</em> name is 'Blair' now. And if you have anything to say about it please mind the ruthless and skilled witch to your left."</p><p>Harry chanced a glance. Parkinson was indeed casually pointing her wand directly at them.</p><p>"So... that's not an imposter?" Ron asked.</p><p>"No."</p><p>"It's still Blaise Zabini?"</p><p>"<em>She's</em> Blair Zabini, yes."</p><p>The cogs in Harry's head were turning. Slowly. "You've been taking something, haven't you? At the hospital wing?"</p><p>Zabini looked puzzled that Harry knew this, but nodded. "Yes. I have. The <em>Transgenus Personas</em> potion. I need to take it twice a week for nine months. It's already started to change my body, so Pomfrey, Tang and McGonagall agreed that I should move to the girls' room this week."</p><p>"And if anyone has a problem with this news, they'll have to go through every one of us," Parkinson announced to the room. "If I hear one fucking word insulting Blair I will personally hex your ears off and feed them to Draco's owl."</p><p>Harry was pretty sure he had read about that potion, he remembered. Vaguely. Somewhere in his Advanced Potion-making textbook - a potion to transform a man to a woman, or a woman to a man. Permanently.</p><p>"Oh. OH. Oh bloody hell," Ron said. Abruptly, he stuffed his wand back in his sleeve.</p><p>Harry stared. <em>What is he doing?</em></p><p>He raised an eyebrow at him and Ron shrugged and blew air out his cheeks. He eyed the ceiling as if he were trying to distance himself from the whole thing.</p><p>"Mum had an old friend... um. Same deal. Nice lady. Bred rats. Err. So. I get it. Seriously," he said. "Good luck with... yeah. And um... sorry."</p><p>Harry was starting to wonder if <em>Ron</em> was a polyjuiced imposter.</p><p>"That is... that's fine," Zabini said.</p><p>She too, clearly wasn't expecting Ron Weasley to react so... calmly. Malfoy seemed similarly stunned.</p><p>"You're still a fucking suspicious, V-Voldemort-loving, criminal fuck though. Don't care if you're a girl," Ron finished.</p><p>
  <em>And he sticks the landing...</em>
</p><p>Zabini crossed her arms.</p><p>"Evidently," she said, with an almost playful smirk.</p><p>Malfoy and Harry shared, for the briefest of seconds, a glance that said, in simple terms: <em>'Is this seriously happening?'</em> This in itself was also insane, so Harry broke eye contact to put his wand away as well. No-one seemed much inclined to add anything further. To avoid the brief civility degrading into a violent duel, Harry figured they should both be leaving. As soon as possible.</p><p>"Uhh. I think I left my homework in the room. Ron?" was about as subtle an attempt to escape as he could muster.</p><p>Ron nodded, as eager as he was to leave, and they both marched off to their dorm. Behind them, the Den burst back into life, with chatter and movement filling the air once more.</p><p>As the next few days passed, the news about Blair Zabini spread through the castle like wildfire. That evening, Harry had managed to locate the page in his potions textbook and the ex-Gryffindor boys - Neville, with his own book in his lap - all gathered as he read it aloud.</p><p>The potion was designed to make the transition a permanent thing, operating by working back through the cell memory to switch the body's natural make-up not just to the opposite gender, but to the version of oneself that the body would have grown up as, if it had been born that way. It was related to time magic in that sense, and to the progress of gestation in the womb. As such, it would provoke gradual changes over the same gestational period, nine to ten months, before the whole transformation was complete. There was also a note saying that a person could stop taking the potion at any time and the transformation would not revert, but would leave the body in an in-between state of genderlessness or as 'multi-gendered' - whichever way one viewed it - on a sliding scale that allowed for all preferences on the spectrum from male to female.</p><p>It was a time-intensive potion to make and involved some ingredients Harry hadn't even heard of, but was, technically speaking, a Healer's medicine. He assumed Tang had been making it for Zabini. He wondered if it was something she'd teach him and Padma at some point.</p><p>By Friday, after Harry had an after-lesson check in with his career counsellor, Professor Hadley, the whole subject had lost its initial spark of interest and people were moving onto other things. A contributing factor was just how Zabini was acting - in fact, all the ex-Slytherins were acting. It wasn't quite back to how they'd been before, but they were no longer skulking and secretive. The new normal had settled to the point that Harry even found he was remembering to think of Zabini as a girl, now, though it took a bit of thought to switch the pronouns in his head and the potion had yet to make more than subtle changes. They hadn't spoken once, after that time on the balcony. Malfoy and the others still kept to their own, by in large.</p><p>And, if anything, Zabini seemed to have relaxed. No longer an anomaly, despite the constant changes to her face, her hair, her voice. Just... ordinary. It was funny what you could learn to just get used to in the wizarding world. Hats talk, broomsticks fly, people change.</p><p>Harry tramped up the steps to his dorm to find Neville reading a dusty old potions book by the small fire. He joined him.</p><p>"That for next week's assignment?"</p><p>"'Fifty-two varieties of bioluminescent mushrooms can be used in the making of the Cumulus Elixir, but one must refer to Gorginski's <em>Mushroom: a memoir</em> for the further seven semi-suitable varieties and the methods by which the mixture can be adapted'," Neville read out, then rolled his eyes. "So now I need to find <em>that</em> tomorrow."</p><p>"I think I might have it. You can borrow it for a bit if you like."</p><p>"Thanks."</p><p>Neville looked around. "Um." He paused.</p><p>"Hmm?"</p><p>"Well, uh... seems like there's a lot of people, em, talking a bit more about this sort of thing these days what with all that's been going on and err. I've just... I've overheard you and Ron talking a bit. About girls. And I just wondered if I could ask you something?"</p><p>Harry blushed. "I'm not a like.. expert or anything. Like at all."</p><p>It was true enough, what Neville had said though. It wasn't just Ron who had sex on the brain. The eighth years were all starting to realise the perks of being one House. Like there were no twelve-year-olds that might be scarred for life if they stumbled in on you doing something you shouldn't on the sofas in the Den. And that the only reason they couldn't enter the opposite genders' rooms were spelled locks on a doors that could be opened to any visitor if the occupant wanted them to be. And they were of age and had survived a war together, which had left them all with some tension to release. It was mostly talk now. A few make-out sessions that had gotten a little handsy and so on. But given what he'd seen already, Harry was pretty sure soon the whole place would be heaving with horny teenagers who'd forgotten the meaning of indecency, privacy or boundaries by Christmas.</p><p>"I - I know. But I though you could help with this. I uhh, just wanna know, how can you tell if you fancy a girl? Like when you knew you liked Cho. Or Ginny?"</p><p>"Oh. I um."</p><p>He thought about it. <em>Who does Neville Longbottom have a crush on?</em></p><p>"Well, I don't know that I do know that, really. I felt..." He put his hand to his chest, remembering that roaring inside him when he used to look at Ginny. "I felt like I... had to have them? Like possess them? But I think maybe that's... not right? 'Cause I didn't want that, really. I think that was just stupid male hormones or something. And maybe it's things like... you notice details about them. You find yourself thinking about them and looking at them all the time. And you want to know about dumb stuff, like how their day was and what they had for breakfast."</p><p>"And you want to kiss them? Like you... picture it sometimes? Think about it?"</p><p>"Well, yeah. For sure." <em>And do other stuff...</em></p><p>He wondered if it was maybe Luna? Or, hell, Ginny? The two of them were close these days. But then did he know about Dean? Harry wasn't sure if it was his place to say. Probably Neville didn't want to tell Harry if it <em>was</em> her he fancied, in any case, given their history. Should he reassure him? Was <em>that</em> his place?</p><p>Just as he was chewing over what to say next, the door opened with a bang. Neville jumped a litte. Already on edge, Harry leapt to his feet.</p><p>Ron stood there. The burbling noise of muted conversations drifted in. His face was pale, eyes wide and blood-shot. He'd clearly been crying.</p><p>"That you, Harry?"</p><p>"Ron? What's happened?" Harry asked, heart in his mouth as he headed towards him.</p><p>Ron took a step towards him.</p><p>"Harry," he half sobbed.</p><p>Harry reached out a hand and gently touched his arm, which was shaking.</p><p>"'Mione and me... we..." Ron gulped.</p><p>"We... we broke up."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Old Wounds vs. New Wounds</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Harry ushered Ron down on the sofa. Neville moved to the armchair to allow him to sit beside him.</p><p>Ron was openly sobbing now. Raw, heart-wrenching sobs that shook his whole body. He gasped between each one, breath shuddering. His lip wobbled as he tried and failed to hold back a flood of tears that threatened to overcome him.</p><p>Not knowing what else to do, Harry leaned into the corner of the sofa and pulled him back into his shoulder, holding him in his arms. Ron collapsed willingly and buried his face into Harry's robes. Harry felt the tension release in his friend's back as he let out a muffled wail into the cloth, as if all it had taken was that simple touch to break him into pieces completely.</p><p>Neville reached over and patted his knee.</p><p>"I- I'm sorry, Ron. Do you want me to stay or? Should I, um... go..."</p><p>Ron just shrugged and continued to cry. His hand was wrapped in Harry's collar, which was becoming increasingly damp.</p><p>"Stay, Neville," Harry said. "I think he needs... I dunno."</p><p>"Support?"</p><p>"Yeah."</p><p>Neville stood. "I can do that." He walked off for a minute, then returned with Ron's blanket - one his mum had knitted for him with a big 'RW' and a warped but recognisable maroon lion on it. He draped it over Ron and half of Harry. Then, conjured a handkerchief and held it out. Harry worked an arm out from under the blanket and took it gratefully.</p><p>"Thanks, Nev."</p><p>"My gran said heartbreak's like finding out somebody's died. Except at the same time they're walking around just out of reach when they used to be the first person you reached for, which is almost worse."</p><p>Harry knew heartbreak. At least, he knew loss. And so did Ron and so did Neville. Sure he'd hurt when him and Ginny broke up, but it was a clean break, an easy one, really. But the loss... the feeling like his heart was cracking in two, like his throat was sandpaper, like his blood was ice. He knew that feeling. The sickness in the pit of his stomach when he saw Sirius fall through the Veil, or Cedric Diggory's body lying there in the cemetery, when he lost Hedwig, when Snape was bitten by Nagini - he could hear that final rattling breath, or the soft smile that remained as Dobby went limp in his arms... Fred, Colin, Remus, Tonks... so many deaths. So many losses. And of course Hermione wasn't dead - of course she was fine - and Ron would be fine, but in a way that didn't matter, because if Ron was feeling... if what Ron was feeling was a death, a death of <em>something</em>, then that made Harry's own heart ache, too, in an old, all-too familiar way. A way he wouldn't wish on his worst enemy.</p><p>Harry looked at the handkerchief, then laid it on the end of the sofa and wrapped both his arms even tighter around Ron's quaking body, which elicited another wail. Neville knelt and rubbed his back through the blanket in circles. Between them, they let Ron cry and cry and cry, until he couldn't cry anymore.</p><p>Over the weekend, Ron spent most of Saturday and Sunday wrapped in his duvet in bed, red-eyed, quiet and miserable. He'd skipped his Animagus class - it was just a lecture on famous Animagi, he'd said - and refused to go to the Great Hall for meals, so Harry had brought him up a tray for each one, even though he barely ate more than a few mouthfuls.</p><p>Harry had managed to find Hermione the next morning, while Ron was asleep. She too, looked as if she'd spent the night in tears. He hugged her, as tight as he had Ron, and she held him, too, until she pulled away slightly.</p><p>"Is he OK?" she asked, sniffling. She wiped her eye with the heel of her hand.</p><p>"Not really."</p><p>She nodded. "I guessed as much. This sucks, Harry."</p><p>"Yeah."</p><p>"I'm sorry. I really am. To him. And to you, for making you have to pick up the pieces."</p><p>Harry frowned. "It's fine. Seriously. I'm here for you both, you know. I- I'm not brilliant at this stuff, but you can talk to me. If you need anything 'Mione. You know I will always love you both. Nothing's gonna change that."</p><p>Her eyes were getting dangerously watery.</p><p>"Oh Harry," she sighed. "I love you, too. Both of you. And this wasn't easy for me. At all. But I'm not... I'm not about to let something carry on if it's not working. I couldn't... I couldn't risk it getting worse with shame and doubt and... it was wearing. It was making me... smaller? Does that make sense?</p><p>"And Ron... I don't know what was holding him back, if it was fear or, or <em>me</em>, or well, no - I'm certain there's something else that he needs to figure out for himself. Whatever it is, I hope he finds it. I just can't wait around though, can I? I'm not the best at reading people, but I could read him. I can read the room when he and I are in it and the story either ends now, and becomes a different story, or it ends in a few years. Completely. Badly. And I don't want to put myself through that. Or him. We deserve better, right? If we make each other smaller. We didn't do that, as friends, but as more than friends... as more, I was becoming less and less. So I had to.</p><p>"I had to, Harry."</p><p>Tears tracked down her cheeks. Harry pulled her in for another hug.</p><p>"I had to. Or I'd lose him. And he'd lose me. And maybe I'd lose you to-"</p><p>"No," Harry said insistently. "You'll never lose me. No matter what, we'll get through this. All of us."</p><p>Hermione nodded against his chest.</p><p>"Yes. For now, though... I think for now, Ron needs you. And I need to give him some space. So, I'm going to stay away, OK? Just for a while. No, it's fine. I've got Luna, and Ginny and the girls in my dorm. I'll be fine.</p><p>"But, can you please take care of Ron for me? Don't let him go to that place he went to last year - that place in his head where all that dark stuff plays out and gets him all turned inside-out."</p><p>Harry had promised to try his best.</p><p>Figuring a compromise was better than nothing, Harry managed to coax Ron to at least go to the classes they shared - Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures - even if he skipped the others. During the week, Harry basically stuck to Ron's side as much as possible, playing cards or chess or shuffling him from place to place. Neville, too, hung around them, despite the miserable atmosphere.</p><p>Even Seamus and Dean had taken to trying to cheer Ron up, though their attempts were a little over-jovial and miscalculated. Still, once or twice they'd managed to get him to crack a smile at one of their jokes. It was at such times Harry really missed the Weasley twins. It was impossible to be sad when they were around - their antics had been too surreal, too quick, too unexpected to ignore. Though it wasn't the same, it was this thought that prompted Harry to suggest Ron go to his brother's shop that weekend. To get away for a bit, with no chance of accidentally bumping into Hermione at every turn. He'd pulled himself together enough to agree, and Harry had seen him off after his Animagus class, with a strict warning - Hermione's <em>'look after him'</em> ringing in his ears - to be careful when Apparating.</p><p>The trip had helped. A little. Ron returned late on the Sunday evening and the first thing he did was tell Seamus about a new goblet that had come in that would shoot whatever liquid you poured into it back up into the drinker's face in an explosive spray.</p><p>"Aye and what makes you think I'd be interested in exploding goblets, Weasley?" Seamus retorted, good naturedly.</p><p>"Oh hmm, let me think, why did you spring to mind..." Ron replied, putting his bag on his bed.</p><p>"Alright?" Harry asked.</p><p>He was sat with his back leaning against the headboard reading a book on bedside manners for Healers (which was proving very useful - listen, make eye contact, validate, be supportive and so on). Ron came over and dropped backwards on the mattress at the foot of his bed. He put his wrist over his brow.</p><p>"Yeah. M'okay, I guess. Good to see George. Rather talk to you than him about all this shit, like, he's been through so much my stuff must seem like bloody nothing. But he understood. Didn't ask for details or a load of questions, just acted super normal. You were right, it's what I needed."</p><p>He lifted his hand and turned his head to look up at Harry.</p><p>"Still feel like shit, though," he confessed. Almost as if he didn't want Harry to stop thinking he needed him. His voice sounded constrained, choked as the emotion bubbled up against his will. He swallowed it.</p><p>Harry put down his book. He leaned forward and crossed his legs, resting his elbows against his knees.</p><p>"Yeah?"</p><p>"Yeah. When d'you think it'll stop? Will it stop?"</p><p>Harry nodded, even though he didn't really know.</p><p>Ron's arm had fallen so it was pointing towards the headboard. His fingers were curled slightly in towards his palm. His sleeve had pulled back, revealing the pale blue veins on his wrist. Harry tugged the magenta cloth back into place and smoothed it absent-mindedly. The cloth was cool, slightly rough. Ron's fingers twitched, but he didn't move otherwise.</p><p>"Wanna help me figure out how to Transfigure a bat into a telescope?" Harry asked. Dr Khatri wanted them to work on transforming increasingly dissimilar objects into one another, natural to man-made.</p><p>Ron smiled at the strange request.</p><p>"Sure. Uhh... where are we going to find a bat, Harry?"</p><p>The next day, Harry was in the hospital wing. He and Padma had gotten onto the subject of the essay they had had to write at the start of the year - about what they wanted to do after school - as they practiced the high-intensity cleaning charms required for medical-grade cleaning. Pomfrey had left them to it. Apparently, she wanted to check in with Professor Tang about restocking some supplies for the winter.</p><p>"I'm mostly interested in it because of Lavender, to be honest," Padma was saying. "I want to... honour her memory, I guess? By helping people, maybe I can make sure others don't lose their best friends. Or their parents, or... yeah. I'd like that."</p><p>Harry smiled. "I definitely get it."</p><p>He pointed at a bedside table. <em>"Scourgifious Absoluti!"</em></p><p>Just then, the door flew open. Draco Malfoy staggered in. He was cradling one arm in the other.</p><p>"Pomfrey, where the fuck's Pomfrey?" he hissed, clearly in considerable pain.</p><p>Padma put a hand to her mouth. "Oh! She's not here."</p><p>"<em>What?!</em> I need her."</p><p>"I- I'll get her. I'll be back as soon as I can. Sorry!" she squeaked. She ran out of the room before Harry could stop her.</p><p>Malfoy stood, shaking. Harry eyed him.</p><p>"What happened?" he asked.</p><p>"Nothing," Malfoy shot back.</p><p>Harry rankled. "Let me see."</p><p>"No." Malfoy half turned away, hiding his arm from sight.</p><p>"I'm taking lessons with Pomfrey. I might be able to help, you idiot," Harry said.</p><p>"I fucking doubt that, Potter."</p><p>"At least show me. Unless you're afraid or something."</p><p>"Shut up." It worked though. Malfoy stuck out his hand, then winced.</p><p>Harry came closer. Malfoy's hand was burned all across the palm and fingers. Burned badly. Second, maybe third degree. It was horrible to look at, all red and blackened, weeping blood in places where the skin had cracked.</p><p>"Shit. Sit down, now," he ordered, trying out his best Pomfrey impression. That worked, too. Malfoy sat on the side of a bed immediately. He was probably in shock.</p><p>Harry pulled up a chair and took a closer look, without touching anything. He could feel Malfoy's eyes on him.</p><p>"I'm going to run a few diagnostics. Don't move." He waved his wand and muttered the incantations. "Just this hand?" he asked.</p><p>"Yes."</p><p>Harry stood and went over to the cupboard where Pomfrey kept her most-used medications. He took out a pain relieving potion. A pretty strong one. Burns were the worst for pain: nothing like setting fire to all your nerve endings to get them to scream bloody murder.</p><p>"Take this. Don't argue." He handed Malfoy the potion and watched him swallow it. "Good. Now I can't fix this myself, but I can do a few things to help. If you'll let me."</p><p>Malfoy closed his eyes as the potion took some of the edge off. "Just. Yes. Fine." He raised his hand. "Whatever. You better not fuck this up, Potter."</p><p>"I won't." Harry pushed his glasses up his nose and sat down again. First, he cast a gentle cleaning spell - not the harsh ones they'd been using to cleanse the room, but something to remove any dirt or debris from the wound. Then, he cast a heat dispelling charm that would help to soothe the area. He reached out, now that the potion had properly kicked in, and gently took Malfoy's hand from underneath to inspect it from a different angles. Deep burns to the palm and abrasions along the left side where he'd clearly burned the hand then hit it against something, causing the skin to rip.</p><p>"<em>Episkey</em>," he tried. Smaller cuts closed because of the spell, but it wasn't enough.</p><p><em>"Vulnera Sanentur. Vulnera Sanentur. Vulnera Sanentur."</em> There. The edges of the gashes knitted together. He spelled away the blood, both from Malfoy's hand and his own.</p><p>"That... I remember that spell," Malfoy said, brow furrowed.</p><p>Harry remembered it too. From when he'd cast <em>Sectumsempra</em> and cut the other boy down in the sixth-floor boys' bathroom. Severus Snape had used the powerful healing spell to repair the damage he'd done. Harry hadn't realised Malfoy was still aware enough to hear it being chanted over him. That knowledge made the memory worse. Made the guilt worse.</p><p>"Guess we're even," Malfoy said.</p><p>"What?"</p><p>"You cut me. Before. Now you've healed me. Guess we're even," he repeated, simply.</p><p>Harry gaped at him.</p><p>Pomfrey and Padma returned, then. Pomfrey seemed impressed with Harry's choices. Examine the patient, stop the bleeding, address their pain: he'd been paying attention. She took over and shooed them out to breakfast. Malfoy didn't look up as he left.</p><p>At breakfast Professor Collins was once again waiting with a stack of notes in hand. He had a red fez on.</p><p>"Potter, you're earlier than usual? In any case, you're one of the students who will be joining this week's class. Thursday evening this week, before dinner. It's a mixed group - you don't need to prepare anything but the session should be about an hour, so manage your other obligations around that expectation, please. Muggle Studies showroom."</p><p>Harry looked at the note he'd been handed. It read much the same, but with the words 'Group Psychological Discussion - Obligatory Extra-curricular, All Years' were at the top. He vaguely remembered McGonagall mentioning something about this when she had spoken at the welcome feast.</p><p>"Ri- right. I'll be there."</p><p>"Of course. Oh and I notice Weasley has not been joining us at meal times these last few days. Could you give him one as well? He's also invited to the session."</p><p>That was some good news, at least.</p><p>"Yeah, will do."</p><p>That Thursday, Ron and Harry walked up to the showroom after Care of Magical Creatures. Hagrid had imported a Hodag from Wisconsin, on loan. It was a frog-headed creature, four legged, with horns and a bad temper. Apparently it had a taste for Mooncalves, but Hagrid had fed it a whole chicken and it seemed pretty happy with that, too. They were discussing the latest arrest in the news. A familiar name: Goyle Sr., Gregory Goyle's father.</p><p>As they entered the room, which was lit dimly, casting the array of Muggle objects on display in an eerie light, vacuums with long shadows and half-hidden garden gnomes, they saw a ring of chairs in the centre, all facing one another. Most were filled with students of varying ages, some Harry vaguely recognised, but most he didn't. They were the only eighth years present.</p><p>They both took their seats. No-one had spoken since they entered. Harry wondered why they'd stopped talking, when he remembered: oh yeah. Chosen One. That whole thing. Somehow, with everything lately, he'd forgotten he was probably the most famous wizard ever these days, if he hadn't already been before he'd killed Voldemort. He was so used to the stares he'd learned to filter them out. But in a ring of younger students, he suddenly felt put on the spot.</p><p>Ron leaned in. "Where's Collins?" he whispered, clearly also feeling awkward.</p><p>The man himself appeared almost on cue. Behind him, a few more students filtered in. Harry sucked in a breath when he saw the one other eighth year that was here. Of course it had to be him. Malfoy. He noticed his hand was still bandaged. It took a while to heal burns properly. You could do it quick, and leave a scar, or over a matter of weeks if you wanted to avoid scarring it too badly. Clearly Malfoy had opted for the latter option - hell, he'd probably needed it to retain full use of his hand after an injury that bad. The question remained: how did he get it?</p><p>"D'you think Malfoy burned his hand touching one of these Muggle things, eh? Burned him like you burned old Qu-Quirrell?" Ron whispered, a bit too loudly.</p><p>Malfoy glared at them both. He was sat to the right of Professor Collins, who was almost directly opposite them.</p><p>"Right! So, a brief agenda then, everyone.</p><p>"Firstly, I will explain the purpose and rules for this session. Then, if you please, I would like you all to introduce yourselves to the rest of the group and say what House you're in. Those of you in Dumbledore House, please also state what House you used to be in as well. Please also say your year. Thereafter, we'll get stuck right into it. That all clear?"</p><p>No-one said anything, but some nodded.</p><p>"Good. So these sessions have been running, quite successfully now, over the last few weeks. The purpose being to facilitate empathy and understanding across Houses, year groups and backgrounds via an open, candid discussion. It is your turn to share. It is your turn to be heard. I will prompt with questions and topics. You can choose not to answer, but I urge you to take the opportunity presented this evening to be as honest as you can.</p><p>"The rules are as follows:</p><p>"One - Nothing anyone says here may leave this room unless the express permission of the person is sought and agreed.</p><p>"Two - Everyone must listen to one another and respond only when someone else has finished speaking.</p><p>"Three - There are to be no insults, no denials, no fighting of any kind. Raised voices are permitted, but if it goes beyond that we will have to pause the session. Let's keep this civil. Is that all clear? Would anyone like to add or amend the rules?"</p><p>Again, silence.</p><p>"Good. Let's get started."</p><p>They all introduced themselves. There were people from year four and up, from all the Houses. Harry found it felt weird to say he <em>used</em> to be from Gryffindor, even though he'd kind of gotten used to being in Dumbledore House now.</p><p>Then, Professor Collins asked them how many people in the room were Muggleborn. Then, how many were Pureblood. Malfoy's hand went up, obviously. As did Ron's and a few others'. Then, it was Harry's turn as someone with both Muggle and magical blood.</p><p>"We'll start simple. What traits do all of you have in common? Please call out; I'll write them down."</p><p>He dragged in a chalk board and floated a piece of chalk into position. The words started flowing in: They could use magic. They were all at Hogwarts. They all wore uniforms. They all had family, in one way or another. They all hated homework (Hermione wasn't there to be a dissenting voice). And so on.</p><p>Next, Collins had them all go around the room, one person swapping clockwise and the other anti-clockwise, so each of them would have one minute to talk to one another face-to-face. They were meant to find five things they had in common between them that wasn't already on the board.</p><p>Harry, of course, turned to Ron first. They bashed their commonalities out pretty quick, choosing whatever random facts sprung to mind: both slept in a tent, both liked Quidditch, both nearly died a few times, both collected chocolate frog cards, both met a baby dragon.</p><p>The next few people were harder. They had to ask each other all sorts of questions, very quickly, to find anything in common. They didn't usually manage to get more than one or two before the timer went off. Harry found a Ravenclaw fifth year who had also owned a snowy owl. That was kind of nice. He met a very young looking Hufflepuff - Muggleborn - who lived in the same town as he used to, which was cool. A Slytherin had begrudgingly admitted that he too, quite liked the new Potions Master, Professor Tang, which for Harry had been a last desperate shot in the dark.</p><p>And then he was face-to-face with Malfoy. For the second time that week.</p><p>"Potter," he greeted him, waving his burned hand. <em>Almost politely?</em></p><p>"Hi. Err. So I don't think we have <em>anything</em> in common..."</p><p>"Don't we? 'Cause off the top of my head I can think of a dozen things."</p><p>"Alright, well you start then."</p><p>Malfoy leaned closer. "We have both been Seekers, but can no longer play as our preferred positions. We have both been in my house, at the same time. We both know what really happened in the Astronomy Tower. And in the Room of Requirement. We have both used Unforgiveable curses. Shall I go on?"</p><p>"Hardly a positive list, is it?"</p><p>"You want positive, Potter? We both survived direct encounters with the Dark Lord. We both held on to true friends that we can rely on. We both owe Snape a lifetime of gratitude, if he were around to be given it. What else do you want? My favourite flavour of Bertie Bott's Beans? My favourite colour?"</p><p>"I- no." Malfoy was right though, the more Harry thought about it, the more he remembered...</p><p>"We both hated Gilderoy Lockhart," he added.</p><p>Malfoy smirked.</p><p>"Oh <em>Godric</em>, that fucking guy. What the hell ever happened to him? He just left?"</p><p>"Obliviate gone wrong. He cast it. Backfired. Back when Ron's wand was broken and he tried to use it on us. I think he's still in St Mungo's."</p><p>Malfoy whistled. "Hell. Really? Shame. I was really looking forward to his next book: 'How I Single-handedly Defeated Lord Voldemort Using Only a Bucket.'"</p><p>Harry snorted. Just then, the sound went for them to swap partners.</p><p>"See you around, Potter," Malfoy joked, gesturing to imitate the strange circular dance they were all performing. He rolled his eyes.</p><p>Harry felt his lip twitch before he could stop it. <em>Am I actually smiling at Malfoy?</em> He stood and moved seats in a daze.</p><p>A few minutes later, all hell broke loose. Ron was standing facing Malfoy, fists shaking. Malfoy was also on his feet, looking equally enraged.</p><p>"'Both lost people in the war?' Fuck you. Actually fuck you. Who did you lose? Death Eaters? Murderers? Your fucking aunt Bellatrix?"</p><p>"Oh there's another one! Dear aunt Bellatrix killed our mutual acquaintance - Dobby. The House Elf. That was his name, right?"</p><p>Ron shoved him.</p><p>"He was my friend! Don't you dare say his name! And anyone you lost was your own damn fault. You know who I lost? My fucking brother, you sick bastard. He died trying to defend the castle, to defend children from the monsters <em>you</em> helped. He died at the hands of one of <em>your</em> Death Eater pals. I lost him and it was pointless and ugly and I never got to say goodbye. So fuck you!"</p><p>Ron was shaking all over, crying bitter, furious tears. Malfoy looked stunned, pale. The fight had drained out of him as Ron spoke.</p><p>Harry stood, too, knowing what was going to happen next. He was right: Ron launched himself at Malfoy and threw him to the ground, punching whatever he could reach. Harry heard Malfoy cry out as Ron landed a blow on his bandaged hand, which he'd raised to defend himself. Suddenly, Ron went flying back as Professor Collins yelled, brandishing his wand.</p><p>"Stop this at ONCE."</p><p>Half the chairs were tipped over. Everyone was standing now, everyone except Malfoy and Ron, who were still sprawled on the ground.</p><p>"As understandable as that exchange was, it was equally unacceptable," fumed the Professor. "Thirty points from Dumbledore House. Weasley, I will have you here tomorrow evening for detention. Malfoy, you will stay behind after class so I may speak with you."</p><p>He turned, his voice mellowing slightly.</p><p>"Otherwise, I thought we were making good progress. Well done. Perhaps we can continue the session another time. For now, I think let's call it a day there. You may leave. Thank you all for your participation."</p><p>Harry went over and helped Ron up by the elbow. He pushed him bodily out the room before the red-head could say anything else.</p><p>"I'll fucking kill him, Harry. I said I would and I will. I can't just do nothing."</p><p>"Yeah, I know, Ron," Harry said, because Ron was still crying and there wasn't anything to do but agree with him until he calmed down. "I know..."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. The Den Within the Den</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Sad chapter. Happy chapter. I take and I give. ;P</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Harry woke up from yet another nightmare, this time one where Bellatrix Lestrange was dancing on a mountain of skulls, kicking them gleefully down the slopes while whirling under the Dark Mark, which glowed green and was set like a sore against a stormy sky. Just lovely what the brain can conjure up.</p><p>It was early, Saturday, pre-dawn. He was contemplating if he should try to get a few more hours in, when he heard the sound of someone getting up and walking towards the fire. A whispered <em>Incendio</em> lit it. The wood popped and crackled. He decided to see whoever was also up at this hour, so he put on his glasses, shuffled on his slippers and eased open the curtain of his four-poster bed. He smiled.</p><p>"Oh. Hey, Harry. Nightmare again?"</p><p>It was Ron. He was wrapped in a woollen blanket like a shawl and had his feet curled under him on the sofa. Harry padded over and joined him.</p><p>"What you doing up?" He yawned.</p><p>"Got my Animagus class in a bit," Ron said, keeping his voice low so as not to wake the others.</p><p>"Yeah but not for ages yet."</p><p>"Wasn't sleeping. Woke up about an hour ago and couldn't get back into it."</p><p>"Anything I can help with?"</p><p>Ron puffed his cheeks up with air and blew the breath out slowly. He shrugged.</p><p>"I dunno." It sounded liked he'd wanted to say something more, but instead he stopped and switched to saying Harry's hair was all... he gestured, making little explosions with his hands around his head.</p><p>Harry rubbed his hair to flatten it. Ron smiled. He made the movement again, only more explosive. Harry gave up trying.</p><p>"Hey, it's nice and warm over here, mind if I get Sev out? She'd love it."</p><p>"Um. I guess."</p><p>Severina, largely, liked to keep to her vivarium. And to herself. Snakes enjoyed spending time with other creatures like they enjoyed a good meal. Once a week. But in the colder weather, Harry had found her increasingly willing to share his body heat. The others in the dorm were wary of her, but had gotten used to the idea of late. Ron, however, having been away at the shop or with Hermione a lot, before the break-up, had yet to spend much time with her at all since Harry first got her and she'd stayed in his room at the Burrow.</p><p>Harry scooped her out of her enclosure and draped her around his neck. He headed back to the fire and - carefully - sat down next to Ron in front of the fire, which was beginning to heat up a bubble of air around them.</p><p>Ron and the snake eyed each other. Severina curled around Harry's neck to stare at him with her black, unblinking eyes.</p><p>After a beat, Ron shifted a little closer. "She is... quite cute, I suppose."</p><p>She tipped her head to regard him. With her upturned snout, she looked especially endearing. <em>Vain thing, he hasn't got any mice you know,</em> Harry thought.</p><p>"She won't bite," Harry said. Then: "Well, hang on."</p><p>He looked down at her, going slightly cross-eyed to do so. "Sev - don't bite him, please," he said in whispered Parseltongue.</p><p>"I wasssn't going to , I ssswear," she answered.</p><p>"Good. Hey, Ron. You wanna hold her?"</p><p>"Uhh..."</p><p>Harry took that for consent and before Ron could protest he plopped Severina in his hands. She coiled around them instinctively.</p><p>"Oh! She's... kind of stronger than I expected. And smooth..."</p><p>"Sev, settle," Harry warned as she went to slither up Ron's arm to loop around his neck, as she was used to doing with him.</p><p>"I- it's OK," Ron said, while she moved. Her body wiggled into position over his shoulders and she flicked her tongue in contentment.</p><p>"Thisss one isss... very warm," she hissed.</p><p>"What's this week's class about?" Harry asked as he reached over to untuck the end of Sev's tail from Ron's armpit.</p><p>"I dunno really. Think they're filling time since the potion thing. Been a lot of theory, lately. Meditation and stuff, to get in the right headspace. Discussions about the 'inner animal'. All the times it's gone horribly wrong for other people. And some folk had to re-do the leaf stage, 'course, so they're kind of going over some stuff again."</p><p>"What's next, then?"</p><p>"Gotta drink the potion we made the other week. During a lightning storm." He pulled a face. "There's bits of moth in it."</p><p>"That's... cool. So you've got to wait for that? Before you can try transforming? Or will the potion... change you? Right away?"</p><p>"McGonagall says it doesn't always happen right away. But yeah, it should be possible once we've drunk the potion. She said to meet on the front steps whenever there's a lightning storm so we'll find out then I guess."</p><p>"D'you know what kind of animal you'll turn into?"</p><p>Ron chuckled. "Maybe a snake, what do you think, Mrs. S- is her last name 'Snape' or what?"</p><p>"Severina. Just... Severina."</p><p>"Severina Potter. Ha. Sounds like what you and Snape would call your lovechild."</p><p>Harry blushed, despite himself. "Don't be gross."</p><p>"I didn't name the damn snake, did I?" Ron said, chuckling.</p><p>"I'll set her on you."</p><p>Ron, his hand betraying only the slightest shake, reached up and stroked her tail. "Aww, she'd never hurt me. We're friends, now."</p><p>Harry had to admit, Severina did look pretty content. Her eyelids were half closed.</p><p>"I'd like to be something that flies. Or maybe something big, you know. Sirius was that huge black dog and he looked pretty cool. Just hope it's not a rat. Or a weasel."</p><p>"Think Malfoy'll really turn out to be a ferret?"</p><p>Ron grinned wickedly. "Oh I'm betting on it. Or a cockroach."</p><p>"Whatever you are, it'll be pretty cool if you pull this off, man. It's kind of a big deal."</p><p>"Yeah well... no guarantees."</p><p>"You'll do it. For sure."</p><p>Sev had closed her eyes completely now, basking in the glow of the fire and the heat from Ron's skin. Harry leaned over, unable to resist, and gave her a little rub on the head in just the place she liked it. If snakes could purr, she would've purred. Instead, she flicked her feather-light tongue against his knuckles.</p><p>"Err... Harry?" Ron said.</p><p>Harry realised that his face was now mere inches from Ron's own. He could feel Ron's breath on his cheek. Sour from sleep. But warm. Their eyes met as he turned. Without meaning to pause for quite so long, he found himself getting a bit lost in how the light from the fire danced, twin sparks in blue reflections turned white and gold, like a sunrise on a half-frozen lake, the centre dark and inky...</p><p>"Oh. Sorry."</p><p>He pulled back. "Shall I take her off you?"</p><p>Ron shook his head, slightly, so as not to disturb her. "Nah. Not if she's comfy."</p><p>Harry settled. He slid his feet out of his slippers and tucked them under the blanket as well, which Ron loosened so he could pull it over his knees. It was nice. Being up so early, in the quiet. Peaceful. Like there was nothing anyone would need from them for hours yet, and they could pretend the world was their own. They turned to talking about their upcoming Friendly later that that week as the grey dawn began to light up the room.</p><p>The next Saturday was All Hallows Eve, a time where the wizards and witches of Hogwarts switched it up for the evening to dress up as... witches and wizards. There wasn't much appetite for costumes, but the eighth years did take the opportunity to throw a small party, with mountains of sweets and big jugs of pumpkin juice that - at some point <em>very</em> early on in the night - was spiked with firewhiskey. Even the five ex-Slytherins came downstairs, if only to sit in their own huddle, as always.</p><p>"I'm starting to see the differences," Neville commented. "With, um. Blair I mean. She's gotten smaller. And her face is like... more feminine? I guess?"</p><p>Harry had seen the changes in Zabini, too. There was an androgyny that hadn't been there before. It was disconcerting only in the sense that he felt himself wanting to categorise her as a man or a woman, but something in his head resisted seeing both in one. It was unfamiliar, yet familiar. Not bad... just new. He felt like he was having to do a bit of mental rewiring.</p><p>Just then, Parkinson shrieked as her glass spat liquid up into her face. Harry stifled a - slightly drunk - giggle. Ron, who had been quite a while getting their drinks, plopped down beside him on the beanbag.</p><p>"Oh look at that. Shame. I was hoping she'd give that one to Malfoy. Still, I'll take it," he said, handing Harry and Neville a cup each. Neville eyed his suspiciously before taking a sip and holding it out in front of him like it might explode.</p><p>Harry laughed. Ron had been testing a few <em>Wheezes</em> over the last week, setting Decoy Detonators just outside Nott and Malfoy's door and putting edible Dark Marks in the porridge at their end of the table. They hadn't eaten any, which was disappointing since he'd also laced the stuff with U-No-Poo. He'd doused the Den in Instant Darkness powder from the balcony once, when the ex-Slytherins were the only ones there, then set off a whole load of Whiz-Bangs, cackling at their yelps and the blooms of light in the dark. The whole thing had certainly cheered him up quite a bit.</p><p>"This is just the warm-up, Harry," Ron said as he - all elbows and knees - settled into Harry's beanbag, which threatened to swallow them both (no idle threat from the furniture at Hogwarts). "I'm testing the waters. I've got big plans for those fucks. Figure there's not much they can do. Fight back and they risk getting expelled... and probably sent to Azkaban as a result, or something."</p><p>He'd not even tried to be subtle. Parkinson was glaring at him from across the room. Oh yeah, they knew exactly who was to blame. But he seemed to be right - they were being remarkably restrained, resorting only to verbal abuse rather than a real counter-attack. So far.</p><p>"Fuck you, dick-for-brains," she yelled, dripping. "What are you? Twelve? Notice you're getting stupider by the day, sure you're not regressing? What's next, nappies and mummy's tit?"</p><p>"At least my mum <em>has</em> tits," Ron shot back.</p><p>"Ugh!" She groaned and stomped off. Malfoy caught Harry's eye and, subtly, tapped his own goblet with a questioning look. Not sure why he did it, Harry shook his head a fraction to the left and right. Malfoy, in a similar minute motion, nodded and took a sip.</p><p>"Not to worry, I melted a Fainting Fancy in the other one," Ron added, as the blonde promptly keeled over, face-first, into the carpet.</p><p><em>Whoops</em>...</p><p>It was late before they all tramped upstairs for bed. Ron was cradling a bunch of sweets in a pouch he'd made with his jumper, which he dumped onto Harry's bed. Neville, Seamus and Harry assumed Dean - except he was still exercising a strict don't-look-at-Dean policy after their embarrassing encounter - were stumbling around getting ready for bed. Ron, on the other hand, was buzzing, both with way too much sugar and the thrill of a well-executed prank. There was an evil glint in his eye as he opened a toffee.</p><p>"'Gotta say. Malfoy's face when he woke up. That was good. Sure. But when Finch-Fletchley hit him with that 'rug-munching' comment... oooh that was priceless." He chewed.</p><p>Harry pulled the curtains and set a ball of light to glow above them. <em>Like we're in a den within the Den</em>, he thought, a bit addled by the firewhiskey.</p><p>He grabbed a chocolate bar and sat back at an angle on the pillows by the headboard as Ron leaned up against one of the wooden pillars at the foot of the bed, their legs draped over one another amongst the packets and wrappers.</p><p>It had been a tricky sell, getting Ron to back down from actual murder to a few harmless pranks. But Harry had persuaded him to just try it out for the week and see how he felt. And if it didn't do the job, well then, what is a best friend for if not to be the one you call on when you have a body to bury? Thankfully, Ron seemed to be in his element, channelling his inner Fred and George and using his extensive knowledge of their product range. He hadn't even touched Lee Jordan's bag yet. There were things in there that required... planning. Apparently. Not to mention some stuff that wasn't even ready for the general public yet. He was hoping to pick up a load of things George had set aside for him next week - after taking the appropriate sum out of his paycheque, of course.</p><p>"D'you reckon Malfoy's done Parkinson?" Ron asked as he picked toffee out his teeth.</p><p>Harry screwed his eyes shut as the imagery flashed across his brain like a rash.</p><p>Ron continued. "She's all over him. Or she used to be anyway. Maybe he had her and it turned him off the whole thing."</p><p>"Maybe."</p><p>Harry found had a lot of trouble picturing Malfoy in bed with a girl, least of all a girl like Parkinson, who seemed too... brash. Big personality. Abrasive. She was confident enough, if a bit plain, but Malfoy seemed too... refined for her. He was taller than Harry, but unlike Ron was slim-built, strong but almost... delicate. Like a deer, Harry decided. He thought of his <em>Patronus</em> then, the one he shared with his father. It had been a while since he'd last cast the spell.</p><p>Ron yawned and shifted so he was slumped down, further entangling their legs, then frowned.</p><p>"Pass us a pillow, would you?"</p><p>Harry did so and he punched it a few times before tucking it under his head.</p><p>"Thas better..."</p><p>Now that he was comfy and in his own bed, Harry was starting to wane. He could feel his head nodding against his chest, full of food and the floating sensation that you get when you lie down after a night of drinking. Like you're almost drifting out of your own body as the room spins around you, not unpleasantly. He'd dropped his chocolate bar... somewhere... It would get all over the sheets but he found he couldn't bring himself to care. His glowing ball of light was starting to flicker and dim to a pale golden yellow, getting smaller and smaller as he sunk into unconsciousness.</p><p>"Hey... s'like a snitch..." Ron muttered to himself and weakly batted for the light, his hand like a cat's paw. The sugar had clearly been a temporary prop to his wakefulness.</p><p>Harry giggled, then hiccupped. His eyelids were so, so heavy...</p><p>He let the warm, welcoming darkness in. And slept.</p><p>For the first time in nearly two months, Harry woke up late after a blessedly nightmare-free slumber. He felt refreshed and didn't even have the hangover he'd expected to be greeted with. That said, he was a bit groggy and gross-feeling from having slept in his robes, and... yep, on the chocolate bar he'd opened the night before. The whole bed crinkled with wrappers, in fact. And, as he rolled over, it wasn't as empty as he remembered and- oh.</p><p>He sat up blearily and patted around for his glasses, which has ended up under a pillow. Ron was curled at the end of his bed, mouth open, drooling a little. He arms were tucked under his head, and for someone who'd grown into his height of late, he'd clearly done his best to be as unobtrusive as possible in his sleep. Even so, his legs were dangling off the side.</p><p>Given he was still out for the count, Harry forgot to be embarrassed for a minute and just sat there, watching his friend's chest rise and fall in a steady rhythm. His hair was starting to get longer on the sides again... and he'd lost all of the ruddy colouring he had gained in the summer. Now, his freckles were cast against pale skin, hundreds of them, spattered across his face and neck in clusters like constellations.</p><p>There was something otherworldly about the Weasleys, Harry had always thought. Orange eyelashes. That was it, or maybe the blueness of Ron's eyes, or the skin unlike skin he'd seen on anyone else outside the family. Whatever it was... whenever Ron was in a crowd, Harry had a tendency to think of him as the one pebble he'd choose to pick up among the grey slate on a stone beach. Pale, rust-coloured spots, smooth at the edges. Warm from the sun. Slightly rough. The stone that would fit perfectly in the palm of your hand. He looked... what was the word?</p><p>He looked inviting.</p><p>Harry pulled his legs in. At the movement, Ron mumbled something and snorted himself awake, so Harry only had just enough time to look away before his friend opened his eyes.</p><p>"Eh? What're you doin' here?" He squinted up at him.</p><p>Harry pulled himself round to sit on the edge of the bed. One of his slippers was out of reach.</p><p>"We must've fallen asleep," he said, at a pitch a little higher than his usual. "Err, sorry."</p><p>"Don' mind..." Ron replied, sleepily. "Ooh, my back just might have somethin' ta say though." He also rolled himself up to sit beside Harry. He mussed Harry's hair affectionately.</p><p>"You look a wreck."</p><p>Harry would have replied in the same vein, but found he couldn't lie. Seriously, Ron suited the dishevelled look. Very Bill Weasley. It was kind of hard to look at him now, like - if he did - Ron would know he'd been staring at him while he was sleeping.</p><p>"I actually feel... pretty good, to be honest. No nightmares for once," he said instead.</p><p>"Huh! Really? Thas fuckin' <em>brilliant</em>."</p><p>"Yeah."</p><p>Harry wondered if the others were awake outside their little curtained room.</p><p>"I uh. Hear... I hear you wakin' up quite a lot, you know. My bed's not that far and you... well, you know."</p><p>"Yell stuff? Scream? Thrash about?"</p><p>"That's about the size of it."</p><p>"Figured."</p><p>"'S'fine. Think the others cast a muffling spell on their curtains before bed, if that helps."</p><p>Harry hadn't known this. it did help, to know he wasn't... on display like that every night. His vulnerabilities laid bare while his defences were down. When it was Voldemort's doing he'd had an excuse. Now... now it was just him, trapped in his own damn head.</p><p>"Really? Why don't you?" he asked.</p><p>Ron shrugged.</p><p>"You might need me," was all he said by way of explanation.</p><p>In some ways, that was the start of it.</p><p>Or, the preamble, sort of. The real start was the very next night, when Harry found himself running for his life through dark corridors, hundreds of dementors clawing at his back, the terrible, awful cold sucking at his soul and the winding dark ahead, only dark, filled with screams, screams of people he knew, people he loved-</p><p>"Shhhhh, shhh..."</p><p>His own screams, his own primal, gut-wrenching screams. His green eyes opened. Dark still, but he could just make out a familiar shape.</p><p>"It's alright, Harry," Ron whispered.</p><p>He was sat on the side of the bed. He had one hand on Harry's shoulder and the other stroking his forehead. Harry whimpered. He felt too exposed, too caught up in the fear, it was too much to be seen in that way, in that state, it was too much... and yet Ron didn't leave like he'd expected now he was awake, and despite feeling so raw that having him there was almost painful, Harry found he didn't want him to go, or to stop circling his thumb over the middle of his forehead, just over the faded lightning-shaped scar.</p><p>So he lay there, arms awkwardly by his sides, waiting for his heart to return to a normal rhythm and for his breathing to calm. His eyes were open - he was unwilling to let himself fall back into that black pit of dementors and pain yet - and they adjusted to the dark enough that he could pick out the outline of Ron's face.</p><p>"Th... thanks," he said.</p><p>"Told you you might need me, didn't I?"</p><p>"Wasn't anticipating like... the next night..."</p><p>"It's every night. I just. I normally just lie there listening. Sorry."</p><p>Harry shook his head, finally dislodging Ron's thumb. His skin felt cool where it had been.</p><p>"I didn't know it was as bad as that, you know. Outside my own head," he whispered, feeling ashamed.</p><p>"Here, shove over."</p><p>"What?"</p><p>"Go on, move up."</p><p>Harry did as he was told and shuffled to the left side of the double bed. Ron clambered in under the covers, laid on his back and shivered.</p><p>"Cold out there," he said, turning his head towards Harry. It was pretty impossible to see his expression, but somehow Harry could tell he was grinning. It was good to have Ron grinning again.</p><p>Ron rolled onto his side, his body facing Harry's.</p><p>"Go to sleep, yeah?"</p><p>Harry didn't quite know what to say. Or if he should say anything. He decided against it. Instead he closed his eyes, and though it was a long, long while before he managed to get to sleep, he did manage it, eventually.</p><p>And nearly every night that week, each nightmare ended with the sound of Ron's voice and Ron's warm body lying next to him, until he could sleep again.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. What Luck</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Hey, it's time to get up. Ron, wake up. Helloooo," he whispered.</p><p>Harry shook Ron's shoulder. It was early, still dark, and he was due to Tang's extra-curricular in an hour. They had taken to waking early, even on the days he wasn't doing his extra classes, so Ron could slip back into his bed before the others woke.</p><p>Neither of them wanted to explain why he'd been sleeping in Harry's bed every night for over a week. They hadn't articulated it out loud themselves. During the day, they never mentioned it, or acted any different around one another. But every night, once the others had fallen asleep, even if Harry wasn't yet dreaming of demons and Dark Lords, Ron had taken to padding over to his bed, clambering in, and falling asleep beside him. And Harry never slept so well as when his friend's body weight dipped the mattress on one side, even if he did take up half the bed. Even if he did snore. Even if he did complain that Harry hogged the covers. His <em>own</em> covers.</p><p>Ron mumbled something sleepily. Harry leaned closer.</p><p>"'Hmm... yeah keep doin' tha..." he was muttering.</p><p>
  <em>Huh?</em>
</p><p>He was still asleep, Harry realised. Dreaming. He went to shake his shoulder, but stopped as Ron started talking again.</p><p>"Thas nice... yeah..."</p><p>Harry froze. <em>Uh-oh</em>. So it was still pretty dark and he couldn't say for sure, but he was a teenage boy who'd slept in a room full of teenage boys for years. And he'd shared a considerable amount of time in a tent with Ron - admittedly, Perkins' bigger-on-the-inside magic tent, but canvas walls were canvas walls.</p><p>
  <em>Speaking of things that were bigger than expected....</em>
</p><p>Ron was lying on his back, and Harry was fairly certain the bulge in the duvet by his crotch was more than just bunched fabric. In retrospect, it was bound to have happened sooner or later. Not all of Harry's own dreams had been unpleasant in the last few months, but he was pretty sure he'd had no dreams at all - that he could remember, anyway - in the past week or so. And Ron, too, had slept like a log. As far as Harry was aware. Until now.</p><p>Harry lay back on his pillow, unsure of what to do. If he woke Ron now, it would be... bad. Embarrassing. Maybe so embarrassing that this strange little routine they had going would end, and Ron would go back to sleeping in his own bed and Harry would... Harry would go back to bad sleep and the shadowy monsters that lurked in the corners of his subconscious. If he considered it at all, he didn't see a <em>good</em> way their arrangement would end in any case, but he'd firmly put that thought out his mind in favour of... well, not thinking at all. What he <em>did</em> know was that he really... liked... sleeping with Ron.</p><p><em>Sleeping next to Ron,</em> he corrected himself.</p><p>Ron moaned, stretching. His leg slowly moved up and down in an unconscious rhythm. Harry felt his own interest pique as his imagination began to conjure up ideas about whatever Ron must be thinking of to get him so... excited. He rather hoped it wasn't Hermione he was picturing or anything gross like that. He shifted his hips experimentally and felt a spark of pleasure travel up his own body. Hmmm... it <em>had</em> been a while...</p><p>Ron moaned again. He rolled over so he was lying half on his front, and threw his arm over Harry's chest, lightly pinning him in place. And just when he'd been about to reach down and... <em>reach down and what exactly?</em></p><p>"You're so fuckin' hot..." Ron mumbled.</p><p>Harry closed his eyes, trying to calm the roaring in his ears. Nope. He had not been about to touch himself with Ron in the same bed, even Ron was the one who started it. Sort of. Not really. Harry sighed. This was getting out of hand.</p><p>It was ages yet before the others would wake up. Deciding, he sidled out from under Ron's arm - going slowly so hopefully the movement wouldn't wake him - and headed off to the washroom to have a nice, warm shower. And a quick wank. Just to get it out his system.</p><p>When he emerged fifteen minutes later, his bed was empty and Ron's curtains were closed. <em>Is he awake behind there? Awake and... let's not go there.</em> He tried not to think of what Ron might have thought, waking up alone in Harry's bed, aroused, Harry in the shower... yeah there was no getting around it, he must've clocked something had... occurred. Harry just hoped he'd put it in the 'let's not talk about this' column and carry on as normal. Which was also his plan.</p><p>Thankfully he had. After a tortuous Healers' Potions session with Padma and Tang, and another three-hour session for his regular Potions class, Harry was relieved when Ron had spent the entire lunchtime excitedly telling him about the latest draft picks for the <em>Chudley Cannons</em>. Harry listened without listening, trying to keep his mind on the food in front of him and out of the gutter.</p><p>Which was practically impossible when, as he'd suspected, the post-war vibe had spread through the school. With colder days and the promise of warmth in one another's arms - among other things - there was an awful lot of puppy-dog eyes and canoodling going on, even in the middle of the day. He watched two Hufflepuffs take a bite out of either end of a sandwich that they held between them. Contemplating taking a Healer's extra-powerful <em>scourgify</em> to his brain, he trained his eyes elsewhere only to land on a pair of Gryffindors he vaguely knew. They appeared to be looking for something. Something that was buried deep in the other person's tonsil area. With their tongues.</p><p>The eighth years had become just as bad - in fact, they were probably the worst. <em>Oh yes, pack the eighteen year-olds together, that was a clever plan.</em> The Den, these days, was a minefield of snogging couples and heavy petting. Harry rather suspected the beanbags were no longer to be trusted as a safe seating area. They'd seen too much. And during his Potions class he and Neville had born witness to the unpleasantly intense flirtation that was going on right in front of them between Theodore Nott and Daphne Greengrass. There had been an unreasonable amount of... giggling.</p><p>That evening, after they walked back from Care of Magical Creatures, Harry and Ron decided to grab some bits and pieces from the Great Hall and eat in the dorm. It had finally dawned on Ron that he would have to do <em>some</em> of his Herbology homework if he didn't want to find himself set upon by a... swarm?... of giant Venus fly traps with Professor Sprout looking on impassively at his self-imposed demise. So, they had planned to do a bunch of their assignments together, in solidarity. It had been going well for a few hours, until Ron's head hit the desk.</p><p>"What is a 'Cheeseweed Mallow' when it's at home?" Ron asked. He banged his forehead lightly up and down.</p><p>Harry flicked through the leather-bound textbook. "Says here it's a white flower, used in- oh. Uh, contraceptive tinctures."</p><p>Ron straightened.</p><p>"Oh. Oooh. Guess I don't have to worry about that, then."</p><p>Harry felt his ears get a bit hot. Every time the subject of Hermione came up he'd been valiantly trying to engage Ron in conversation about her. But this... this was probably not the time. Nor the right subject.</p><p>Ron eyed him, knowingly.</p><p>"Just joking," he said.</p><p>"Uh, yeah. Um, it also says it's useful for rebalancing any overbrewed skin ointments..."</p><p>"Hey - you and Ginny <em>did</em> use protection, right?"</p><p>Harry kept looking at the text as it swam in front of him. Was this a 'I'm her big brother and I'm gonna kick your arse' question or a 'hey Harry the person who's had sex like half a dozen times and is now apparently the fount of all knowledge' question?</p><p>"Yeah. Course. We talked about it and she had some stuff come by owl, like a subscription, I guess? She said she'd been getting it for years anyway..."</p><p>
  <em>Shit. To quote Hagrid: 'I shouldn't have said that'.</em>
</p><p>Ron's jaw flopped open. "<em>Years?</em> Harry, please." He took Harry's hands in two of his own and gave him a pleading look. "Give me names. Who do I have to kill?"</p><p>"Uhh, since I'm on that list I think I'd better not."</p><p>"Harry, I need this. Those bastards taking advantage - <em>Years</em>, Harry. <em>Years</em>."</p><p>Harry desperately trying to change the subject, extracted a hand from Ron's vice-like grip and reached up to ruffle his hair.</p><p>"A- Anyway. You need a haircut again."</p><p>He stood, one hand still in Ron's grasp, realising how awkward he was being but desperately hoping it would work. <em>Come on, come, come on...</em></p><p>"I do?" Ron touched his own head, letting him go.</p><p>"Yeah. Fine. But I'll get that list from you, Harry. When your guard's down - <em>wa-bam</em> - I'll have my revenge on those horndog bastards... err... not you, 'course."</p><p>Harry sighed with relief. He headed over to the washroom and started setting up. Ron came in holding his little leather shaving kit. He sat on the stool and Harry began making the foam with the brush and the soap bar.</p><p>"Oh, hang on, I got that stuff on my top last time, lemme just..."</p><p>Ron bent and began unbuttoning his white shirt from the collar down. He slipped it off and dumped it to the side. Topless, he sat with his hands on his knees, waiting.</p><p>His back was broad, slightly curved. Muscular, pock-marked and - of course - covered in freckles of all shapes and sizes. Harry could see, from the angle of where he was stood by the sink, the soft folds of skin crinkled together as he slouched. Not that he was fat or anything. Just... there was a layer of softness, over the muscles, around his stomach and hips. Where Harry's own black hair - what little he did have - stood stark against his pale skin, Ron's was fine and light. Almost like a warm, golden halo of fuzz around his arms and trailing out from his chest towards two pale pink nipples. And there was more hair - a spattering of it - tracing a path from his belly-button down towards his trousers, disappearing under the fabric.</p><p>The fire had been on a while. The dorms were warm. Harry felt a bit over hot in his jumper and shirt, but couldn't quite bring himself to remove a layer. It would be... strange. Somehow. To do so.</p><p>Instead, he circled around so he was behind Ron and lathered the foam into his hair. He clipped the guard on the razor and, after having done it once, started to make short work of the task. Ron sighed appreciatively.</p><p>"Mmm. Feels kinda nice, actually," he said, quietly. He rolled his shoulders, dropping his shoulder blades as he relaxed more deeply into the sensation.</p><p>As he did so, Harry watched the knotted, jagged trench of his splinching scar ripple. It looked like lightning. It looked like it would never be the same again. He could feel a spark of anger well up inside of him.</p><p>"I'm sorry, Ron," he blurted.</p><p>Ron clearly wanted to turn but the blade on his head stopped him.</p><p>"Uhh. OK. What for?"</p><p>Harry continued shaving, this time feeling like the one on the spot.</p><p>"For not knowing what to do to help you. When you tried to Apparate in the woods and got splinched. If I knew some of the stuff I know now, then, well then you wouldn't have such a terrible scar, and you wouldn't have been in all that pain for so long and all that stuff, with the shit we said to each other, it was all... I could have prevented it all."</p><p>Ron shrugged, gently. He raised his arm to his shoulder to touch the old wound.</p><p>"You didn't know. And 'Mione... she did her best, right? And I hardly ever feel it these days. Just a bit stiff sometimes, like when it's cold out or something. We were in a tough spot."</p><p>"Still. It's so simple, I would have cleaned the wound, used numbing spells, cut here..." He put the razor down and held Ron's hand to guide his fingers over the edges of the scar. "I would have cut here to help make the scar neater, see? And stemmed the bleeding, bound the muscles..." He manoeuvred Ron's hand down towards where the scar met his collar bone. "It would have healed much faster. There would just be a line from here up and around, not... <em>this</em>."</p><p>Ron flattened his hand over his shoulder, as if trying to hide it.</p><p>"Is it really that ugly?" Ron asked.</p><p>"Oh. No I - I didn't mean it like that. I just..." Harry lifted Ron's hand away and replaced it with his own fingertips, running them from one end of the scar to the other. "I just know how I could've helped you now. It sucks to have that in my head and look back at how stupid we were."</p><p>"If I spent all my time thinking about all the stupid decisions I've made, I wouldn't have any room in my life to make new ones," Ron chuckled.</p><p>Harry laughed.</p><p>"Besides. I didn't let it stop me," Ron continued. "Well, I did. But then I found you guys again and we fought and we won. And you didn't let your scar stop you. So I didn't let mine."</p><p>"You kept Apparating," Harry said, realising what Ron was saying. "I watched you practice a lot over the summer and I wondered how you were... able to... after what happened. And you've been doing it all term, all the way to Diagon Alley. Mate. That takes..."</p><p>"Balls, Harry. The word you're looking for is massive, great big <em>balls</em>."</p><p>"Ha! Yeah that," Harry grinned.</p><p>"I had this guy in my life who could've let a scar rule his life. He didn't. He took control. I figured, in my own crappy, mundane way, I could do the same."</p><p>Just then, the door banged open and Seamus Finnegan walked in.</p><p>"Oh! What's crackin', fellas?" He stopped dead.</p><p>"Having a wee party in here, are we? Ron, lookin' very spiffy. Sorry to interrupt this intimate couples activity, just gotta take a leak so if you don't mind wrapping things up I'll wait, eh?" He flashed them a thumbs up and strode out of the room.</p><p>"Sh- shut your pie hole!" Ron shouted after him, going bright red.</p><p>"Uhh. I'd better finish this up then," Harry said, picking up the razor.</p><p>"Bloody Irishman. I've a mind to jinx his sheets wet while he sleeps. He can take a short walk off a tall cliff is what..."</p><p>As midnight approached, after the others had fallen asleep and to Harry's relief, he felt the weight of Ron's presence on the side of the bed where he'd rather hopefully left space. Neither of them said anything. But Harry felt a smile play at the corner of his lips as he started to drift off. The only trouble was the final thought that surreptitiously entered his mind like a pink elephant in slippers.</p><p>
  <em>Now, all I have to do is not think of anything sexual for the next eight hours. That won't be... too... hard...</em>
</p><p>The next morning started on an interesting note as Ron, on his way back to his own bed in the early pre-dawn hours, had indeed spelled a damp patch under Seamus. Hs victim unfortunately noticed the moment the spell was cast and caught Ron red-handed, leading to an impressive swearing match that Harry observed, amused, with Severina's hissed commentary as he added fresh water to her vivarium. Thankfully Seamus assumed Ron had been up and about to cast the spell, and not because he was awake for any other reason.</p><p>Ron's bad luck didn't end there, however. At breakfast he tripped on the way to the table and managed to stick his entire hand into a serving bowl of scrambled eggs. Then he had to run back to the dorm to get his History of Magic textbook, which he'd forgotten. During Herbology he discovered the cork on his ink well had come loose and doused the essay he and Harry had worked on the previous night in black ink. Professor Sprout did not take kindly to his excuses and had him add fresh manure to the vegetable patches for the entire class, outside, by himself, in the cold.</p><p>At lunch, Ron was already in a bitter mood, but that was <em>before</em> the apple he bit into turned out to have a wriggling worm in it. By the time he and Harry were outside Hagrid's hut for Care of Magical Creatures, Ron was seething. He kicked the wall and hopped in place as his toe hit a jagged bit of stone, swearing under his breath while Hagrid explained they would be learning how to fit new shoes on a beautiful Abraxan winged horse that he'd acquired for the lesson. Naturally, he volunteered Ron to give it a go after providing a stumbling, gap-filled, clear-as-mud explanation of the process. The horse snorted, as if preparing for a challenge.</p><p>It was on the way to the hospital wing, Ron holding his bleeding, broken nose and moaning to himself, that Harry started to wonder if something weird was going on.</p><p>"Uh. Is Friday the thirteenth a... special day in the wizarding world?" he asked.</p><p>Ron's reply was muffled. "Huh? No, don't fink so?" He groaned. "Ow, fuck..."</p><p>Harry helped Pomfrey clean him up and reset his nose - "An excellent learning experience for you, Mister Potter." - and agreed to grab him some dinner after he suggested that maybe, just maybe, he should call the day bust and just go to bed. He and Ron parted ways and he headed down the stairs.</p><p>Once in the Great Hall, he ended up deep in conversation with Neville, Seamus and don't-look-him-in-the-eye Dean. The front page of the <em>Daily Prophet</em> was plastered in bold headlines that read:</p><p>"Major Death Eater Secret Camp Discovered: Huge Arrests Made!"</p><p>It turned out that a group of Aurors had been tracking the camp for months. Its location moved from place to place almost weekly. With twenty named arrests of high-profile persons of interest and many more besides, it seemed a good chance that by uncovering this camp they had really broken the back of the rebellions. Maybe, just maybe, it would be enough to send the remaining Death Eaters into hiding - for good.</p><p>Grinning ear to ear, Harry headed up to the Den with a plate of stew and mashed potato for Ron, itching to give him the good news. Hopefully, it'd cheer him up. As he entered the Den, however, he stopped short at the sight of Hermione, sat alone at one of the folding tables, holding a piece of parchment between two shaking hands. She looked up.</p><p>And burst into tears.</p><p>
  <em>Oh...</em>
</p><p>Harry came over and sat the plate down. Figuring it was the best option, he pulled Hermione into a hug.</p><p>"What's up, 'Mione?"</p><p>She wailed into his chest. He waited, and finally she gathered herself enough to reply.</p><p>"It's a letter from Kingsley. About the arrests - you know?" she said, sniffing. "Oh Harry, he says that it might just mean I'll be able to see my parents before the end of the year. Not for sure, yet, they're interrogating them now. But this may lead to a whole slew of further arrests and just... it's wonderful, isn't it?"</p><p>Harry gave her arm a squeeze. Hell yeah. It really was.</p><p>"That's brilliant news. I'm happy for you, 'Mione. Super happy. In fact, that's the best news I've heard for ages."</p><p>She smiled up at him, her eyes watery. She leaned in and to his surprise pecked him, just once, on the lips.</p><p>She pulled away. Frowned. Shook her head. Laughed to herself.</p><p>"Oh I have missed you, Harry. And Ron. I've been a bit lonely, I suppose. Sorry about that. Don't think anything of it, honestly, I'm just... I'm a bit all over the place."</p><p>Harry recovered enough to nod. <em>Girls and wet kisses...</em></p><p>"How is Ron, is he OK?" she asked, as if nothing had happened.</p><p>Harry, feeling that perhaps he'd just been the subject of an experiment that hadn't panned out, nodded again.</p><p>"Err... yeah. Sort of. A horse broke his nose today, but that was mostly Hagrid's fault. But before today he's been... yeah... getting better. I think."</p><p>"Oh good lord. I do hope you've been trying to keep his spirits up? Spending time with him? I know you've been busy with the Healer classes."</p><p>Harry wondered if he should mention the fact that him and Ron had probably been spending more time together than they ever had, night and day. <em>On second thoughts, maybe not...</em></p><p>"Yeah. Definitely," was all he managed.</p><p>"Good." She nodded. "I think... I think I've spent a bit too much time feeling sorry for myself and not enough doing something useful. Making progress. Moving on, I guess. Although I would love for things to be back the way they were before... well, before... I think I need to spend a bit more time on myself and not - oh, well not worrying about you two all the time, if I'm honest. So, do you think in a few weeks... do you think we could all talk? The three of us? Sit down and... talk again?"</p><p>Harry considered it. Maybe he could start to get Ron used to the idea. There was no way Harry was going to live another term, never mind the rest of his life without his two best friends by his side. So yeah. A few more weeks sounded about right.</p><p>"Yes. For sure. I'd love that, 'Mione."</p><p>"Great." She sighed. "And I've been meaning to apologise, by the way. I should have been more supportive of you both. I think I'm too invested in your decisions and if they aren't the ones <em>I</em> would make, I get all... tied up in my emotions. I do believe in you, Harry. You'll make an amazing Healer. And Ron can live his life just as he pleases. And me too. Maybe I need to be less hard on myself as well. On all of us. And figure out what I want by myself, too."</p><p>"Thanks. For what it's worth, I know you meant well and I think secretly Ron knows it, too."</p><p>"Hmm, but I could - as ever - work on my delivery," she said, ruefully.</p><p>Harry chuckled. "Yeah."</p><p>She looked at the plate beside him.</p><p>"That for him?" she asked.</p><p>"He figured the day was 'cancelled' so I'm just bringing him some dinner."</p><p>"That's sweet of you. You'd better get going then, before it gets cold."</p><p>Harry gave her one final hug, grabbed the plate and headed upstairs. The dorm was empty - everyone else was still eating dinner in the Great Hall except for Ron. He was sitting in Harry's bed, waving a feather on a string in front of Severina. She was swaying as if hypnotised. As Harry walked over, she lashed out at the feather with her fangs, but missed wildly. Ron laughed. His nose was red, but looked otherwise normal.</p><p>"She's not very good at this," he commented.</p><p>Harry relayed the message to the snake, who hissed.</p><p>"Thisss prey isss elusssive. Tell him to hold it ssstill, then."</p><p>Harry gave Ron his food and took over with the feather. Although he decided not to mention his conversation with Hermione, he did relay the news about the arrests.</p><p>"Brill. Wonder what Malfoy's thinking now. Bet some of his fellow scumbags'll talk and spill the details about some of the horrible shit he was up to. Maybe they'll come and arrest <em>him,"</em> Ron said, gleefully. "In fact..." He put his plate on the bedside table and reached into the drawer where he knew Harry kept the Marauder's Map. A quick <em>'I solemnly swear I am up to no good'</em> later and they watched as Malfoy's little dot bounced around the fifth floor corridor.</p><p>"He's still up to something," Ron asserted, stabbing the parchment with his finger.</p><p>"You think?" Harry asked.</p><p>"I know," Ron said, watching as Sev finally caught the feather that was lying still on the bedspread. She seemed displeased at its flavour. "I know, and I'm going to find out what."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. The Three Broomsticks</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Muggle Studies classroom. Again. That's the third time this week," Ron said. He was eating a triangle of buttered toast.</p><p>"Do you think Professor Collins knows something?" Harry asked.</p><p>Ron shrugged and stuffed the map back in his pocket. They were getting ready to head out to Hogsmeade. It was the last weekend of November and McGonagall had announced a Hogsmeade weekend for the upper half of the school (she had cancelled the Animagus class as well). The idea was to provide an opportunity for the students to buy their Christmas presents. Harry and Ron had a better idea involving The Three Broomsticks, firewhisky and a pack of Exploding Snap.</p><p>As they left the dorm, Seamus popped his head out of the washroom and called out after them.</p><p>"Have fun on your date, boys!"</p><p>Ron flipped him the bird by way of reply.</p><p>Finnigan had taken to teasing them in revenge for Ron's prank a few weeks ago, and it was starting to set the rumour mills a-turning. Harry tried not to pay any notice as a gaggle of fifth year girls giggled at the sight of them walking together out the castle. So much for Creevey's pact. He also tried not to think of what would happen if Seamus knew about their nightly...err... rendezvous. He'd probably have an aneurism.</p><p>It was a wet and dreary day, but the lights were up in town and that made everything feel festive in spite of the weather. First, they decided to do a round trip through the usual haunts. They stocked up on sweets at Honeydukes and even popped in to say hello to Aberforth Dumbledore at the Hog's Head Inn, who seemed simultaneously grumpy and pleased to see them. He asked after Albus Dumbedore's portrait and even laughed a little as Harry told him about the ongoing feud with Vance. Then, they resupplied on quills, parchment and ink at Scrivenshaft's, before heading into the Inn around lunchtime.</p><p>It was busy. Harry and Ron managed to grab one of the tiny tables flanked by two wobbly stools and Ron went to fetch them a couple of drinks. He returned with two glasses of mead and a concerned expression.</p><p>"Just saw Ginny with Dean Thomas." He handed Harry a glass before taking a long sip from his own. Smacking his lips, he said, "Think they're back together by the looks of it."</p><p><em>Way ahead of you, mate,</em> Harry thought, but drank the sweet, strong honey-flavoured drink instead of mentioning certain things that may well get a man killed in broad daylight.</p><p>Ron pulled Harry into a sudden sideways hug.</p><p>"M'sorry. I guess that kinda sucks for you."</p><p>Feeling rather squashed in his arms, Harry patted Ron's back, awkwardly.</p><p>"It's fine. Honest. We're friends now. Water under the bridge and all that."</p><p>"Still." Ron gave him a final squeeze and sat back on his stool.</p><p>"Now, even if you don't care, what are your thoughts on helping me plan the murder?" he asked, eyes twinkling.</p><p>Harry chucked into his glass. "I'm still not giving you that list. And Ginny'd string you up if you mess things up with Dean - Luna tells me it's going quite well between them this time around."</p><p>"Hang on, you <em>knew already?</em> What and I'm the last to hear, only her beloved big brother I-"</p><p>Ron stopped talking. His eyes narrowed to slits.</p><p>Harry followed his gaze. Of course. Malfoy. The blonde had entered The Three Broomsticks Inn alongside Nott, Zabini, Parkinson and Greengrass. Nott and Greengrass immediately split off to snag a table recently vacated by a couple. Ron turned green as they started to snog with an intensity rivalled only by the mating habits of your average bonobo. The other three perched by the bar and tried to order some drinks from Madam Rosmerta, who seemed to be deliberately ignoring them as she cleaned some glasses. The fact that she hadn't kicked Malfoy out of the bar entirely was, to Harry, an actual miracle. After all, it was he that had put her under an Imperius curse and made her give the cursed necklace to Katie Bell in their sixth year.</p><p>"Come on. Let's get out of here," Harry said, draining his glass. Better to leave now before Ron did something stupi-</p><p>He heard Ron cast the jelly legs jinx under his breath. Malfoy collapsed to the ground with a yelp, his legs giving way under him.</p><p>Before Harry could stop him, Ron then marched up to the bar and looked down at the prone boy.</p><p>"Think you better leave," he said, acid dripping from every syllable. "I reckon Madam Rosmerta don't want you here."</p><p>Her lip did twitch, but she said nothing, just kept cleaning.</p><p>"If you wanted me to fall for you, you might have just asked," Malfoy replied as he wandlessly removed the spell from himself.</p><p>Harry bit his lip to avoid laughing.</p><p>
  <em>OK, that's one way to spook Ron...</em>
</p><p>This was clearly not the reply his best friend had been expecting, and it rather threw him off his ominous, threatening sort of vibe. He opened his mouth but failed to muster a reply.</p><p>Malfoy stood, nearly eye-to-eye with him now. Harry wondered if he should intervene. He readied his wand in any case.</p><p>"You don't <em>have</em> to keep hexing me and whatnot, Weasley. Unless you don't think you could get me on my knees willingly?"</p><p>Ron took a step back and in doing so almost ended up in Zabini's lap. She grimaced and pushed him forward, making him stumble closer, still, to Malfoy.</p><p>Malfoy had adopted an ice cold demeanour, yawning theatrically into his hand - which still had a small bandage wrapped around the palm - at Ron's growing frustration.</p><p>"Going to beat me up again, is it? Any excuse to get close to me. Careful, you'll get me all excited."</p><p>Harry was trying to read the ex-Slytherin as he spoke. Yes, once upon a time this kind of thing was typical Malfoy, all poise and snide commentary, but these days... yeah, he was pretty sure Malfoy was... afraid? Trying to mask it? Trying the only tactic he could think of to stop Ron pummelling him into the ground?</p><p>It was working, though. Ron pulled away, his expression twisted in disgust.</p><p>"Fuck you."</p><p>"Please. It's been ages."</p><p>Harry was practically chewing the insides of his own cheeks. Malfoy's eyes flitted over to his own for a split second.</p><p>
  <em>Careful Malfoy, don't push him too far...</em>
</p><p>Ron growled. His shoulders raised as his hands became fists. Malfoy noticed too, and, realising his mistake, casually called out. "Nott? Greengrass? Stop mashing mandibles and let's get out of here."</p><p>"Lacking your usual witty repartee there, Weasley," Zabini commented - in a higher voice than she used to have - as she slid past, surreptitiously putting herself between him and her friend. "You're normally so... verbose."</p><p>Ron watched them leave, then marched back to Harry.</p><p>"What. The fuck. Was that?"</p><p>"Just Malfoy being... Malfoy, I guess."</p><p>"I need another drink."</p><p>They stayed the afternoon, Ron ranting about Malfoy's 'dumb, fucking face' for much of it. Ginny and Dean ended up joining them, and even Neville and Luna after a bit. Eventually, things calmed down enough that the conversation was able to turn to other things, such as the upcoming Christmas ball. Which Harry had half forgotten about, and now felt the familiar sick wave of realisation: <em>Fuck, gotta find a date...</em></p><p>"Neville and I will be going," Luna said, dreamily.</p><p>Neville added: "As friends, of course."</p><p>"Why?" Ron asked, a little insensitively. He was about five drinks in and it was starting to show.</p><p>"Well I mean... I figured no-one would go with me, and Luna said she didn't have any plans so..."</p><p>"Whaddaya mean no-one will go with you? Mate, you're a fucking catch!"</p><p>Neville blushed.</p><p>Luna nodded sagely. "He's right you know. I consider myself quite lucky. Even if those other girls took all my Charms homework..."</p><p>"Luna, you've got to stop letting that sort of thing happen," Harry said, frowning.</p><p>"Oh well... it's to be expected. Neville's ever so popular, so they don't like me. I don't mind. They've all got a terrible case of Nargles anyway."</p><p>Ron pointed at Neville and looked to Harry for support.</p><p>"Back me up here. He's like, one of the handsomest buggers in this place, right? Tall, good-looking, hero of Hogwarts... you could get any girl you fancied!"</p><p>"Err... yeah, he's right, Nev. But I think you'll have fun with Luna, though," Harry added diplomatically.</p><p>
  <em>"See?"</em>
</p><p>Harry, remembering the chat he'd had with Neville by the fireside a few weeks ago, wondered if it <em>was</em> in fact Luna he was interested in. The boy was hard to read.</p><p>"Leave off, Ron. Besides, who are <em>you</em> taking?" Ginny said, trying to steer her brother's attention away from her friend, who was looking increasingly nervous.</p><p>Ron scowled.</p><p>"Guess no-one. Thanks for the sensitivity there, Gin. Hey Harry, would Padma have me again? You see her a lot these days, does she talk about me?"</p><p>"Absolutely one hundred percent not a chance in hell."</p><p>"Thought so."</p><p>Harry, who was also a few drinks in, slumped over the table. "What's the point in finding a date to these things anyway, what are you meant to do with them?"</p><p>"I think you know," Ginny said, then yelped as Dean poked her in the side.</p><p>"Dance! I meant dance!" she protested.</p><p>"I don't even wanna dance..." Harry groaned.</p><p>Ron threw an arm around him. "I feel yah, mate."</p><p>He paused, looking thoughtful.</p><p>"Hey, why don't we just go?"</p><p>Harry looked round at him.</p><p>"What do you mean?"</p><p>Ron waved his hand. "Like, fuck finding a date, fuck girls - no offense - let's just go, like, as the two of us. Come on, it's brilliant."</p><p>"Finnigan will have a field day."</p><p>"Finnigan can, and I say this with feeling, suck a dick. Sorry Dean, know he's your mate but he is an actual twat."</p><p>"Point taken," Dean said, laughing. Harry giggled to himself. All this talk of dick sucking and here was Ginny and Dean, sat there like they hadn't - probably - been planning on similar activities later that evening.</p><p>"'Sides, it's just a ball, it's not like the Yule ball with all that formal shit. We can just sit back, eat food, drink and be merry. It'll be a laugh!"</p><p>"You'll be just like me and Luna," Neville added.</p><p>"Yeah! Well, uh. Yeah, sort of! It'll be a date between mates. A mate-date. Whatever. Don't make me harass Padma, Harry. The poor girl."</p><p>"Well if it means saving her from you, I guess..."</p><p>Ron pretended to be affronted. "'I guess' - glad you're so happy about it..."</p><p>Harry shoved him and nearly knocked him off his stool.</p><p>"Fine. I'd love to go to the ball with you, Ron. You're right, it'll be a blast."</p><p>Ron cheered.</p><p>"Fuckin' <em>brilliant!"</em></p><p>A few weeks later, on a Wednesday morning, and Harry was nervous. He and Hermione had been talking - without Ron knowing it - and they had planned to meet later that day to finally try to reconcile. They both hoped they could mend bridges before the ball itself, which was that Saturday, so at least they could enjoy one such event together without it being ruined by a fractured relationship between the two friends. That was the plan, anyway.</p><p>"Psst! Harry, you all right?"</p><p>Ron pressed his leg against Harry's under the desk. He'd been jigging his knee up and down so much the table had started to wobble. At the pressure, he stopped, though Ron kept his leg where it was as if to hold him steady.</p><p>"Something up?" Ron asked.</p><p>Professor Sprout was lecturing on plant phenotyping and in protest Ron had started making a paper daisy chain. Thankfully, they were sat at the back and largely hidden from view.</p><p>"Um. Yeah. Just pissed off about my Potions assignment."</p><p>That <em>was</em> true - Tang had given him a 'Dreadful' on his latest essay. And a 'Poor' on the essay before that. Her optimism about his abilities remained undeterred, but Harry was starting to doubt himself.</p><p>"Yeah, she's a real cow."</p><p>This wasn't in the slightest bit true and Ron had never even met the woman, but Harry warmed at the show of solidarity, nevertheless.</p><p>"Listen, Ron. After lunch today, um. I was wondering if you'd help me... err, study? For Friday's Potions test?"</p><p>There was no test. It seemed as good an excuse as any to get Ron on his own.</p><p>"Course I will. Can't believe she's giving you a test on the last day of term."</p><p>"Yeah."</p><p>"Cow."</p><p>"Yeah."</p><p>Harry was so nervous at lunchtime that he could only stomach a couple of bites of his roll. Ron kept staring at him like he'd gone mad.</p><p>"You sick or something?"</p><p>"No. Just not that hungry."</p><p>Neville sat with them. He too, wasn't eating. Instead he seemed fixated on the group of ex-Slytherins at the other end of the table. Harry was surprised; normally, he didn't seem that interested in them. That was more his and Ron's thing.</p><p>"Do you think they're going to the ball?" Neville asked. "Zabini, Malfoy and all of them?"</p><p>"Don't know, don't care," Ron grunted. "Actually, maybe I could hex their dress robes a really putrid colour or something..."</p><p>"Don't." Harry shook his head. "We're meant to be having fun, remember?"</p><p>"Yeah, well. That sounds pretty fun to me."</p><p>"If they do go, I wonder who they'll go with? I guess the Slytherins from the lower years are coming too so maybe with them?" Neville suggested.</p><p>"Nott and Greengrass are together, right? Probably Parkinson will latch herself onto Malfoy like she did before. Dunno about Zabini? Actually, does she like girls? Or guys? What did she like before?" Harry wondered.</p><p>"Doesn't matter. Who'd date a Slytherin anyway?" Ron muttered into his pumpkin juice.</p><p>"True."</p><p>Zabini didn't seem to be aware of them staring. In the last month, she had changed yet further. Her face looked more delicate, her waist neater. Her hair had grown, too, into a sort of chin-length bob that looked rather chic and European on her, where on someone else it might look frumpy.</p><p>Malfoy, on the other hand, looked up as if he sensed their eyes on him. He stared back, impassive. Ron glared. Harry felt the nerves well up again.</p><p>
  <em>OK, time to get this over with...</em>
</p><p>"Come on Ron, let's go. Potions test, remember?"</p><p>Harry led Ron to the study area near the library. It was quiet - most people were at lunch or had already started the afternoon's activities. He could see a team practicing Quidditch out on the pitch outside the window. Oh to by flying through the air instead of awkwardly trying to get his best friends to make up...</p><p>He spotted Hermione at the designated table. Before Ron could say anything he sat down beside her. Ron - wary - sat opposite them.</p><p>"What's... what's this about?"</p><p>Harry gulped. Show time.</p><p>"Um. OK so Hermione said she wanted to talk and I think it's time and-"</p><p>Hermione laid a soothing hand on his arm.</p><p>"I'll take it from here, Harry. Thank you for bringing him."</p><p>Ron eyeballed Harry in a 'oh you're in trouble later' sort of way that Harry couldn't help but feel was backed up by his recent credentials in prank-setting. But he didn't blow up. And he didn't leave.</p><p>
  <em>Surely that's a good sign?</em>
</p><p>"Listen Ron. First off, I just wanted to say that I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I hurt you so badly. And that we didn't work out - believe me, I'm sorry about that." She sighed.</p><p>"I do love you, and I think a little bit of me always will want... what I thought we had. But something wasn't right and we both knew it. I hope you can forgive me.</p><p>"Um and I brought you something, actually."</p><p>She picked up her beaded handbag and reached her arm into it, up to the elbow to pull out a wad of fabric wrapped in tissue paper.</p><p>She handed it to Ron, who took it in both hands.</p><p>"It's your dress robes. I had them sent away to be repaired. They did a good job I think. You can hardly see where it tore."</p><p>Ron unfolded the tissue and ran his palms over the cool green velvet. He glanced up at Harry, who smiled in what he hoped was an encouraging way. He felt Ron, ever so lightly, kick him under the table.</p><p><em>Why am I he-re?</em> He asked himself in a sing-song sort of manner.</p><p>"Um. Thanks, 'Mione," Ron managed, after a beat. He set the robes aside.</p><p>"You're welcome," she replied, stiffly.</p><p>He chewed his lip, seemingly lost in thought. Then, exasperated, flung his arms out and gestured wildly as he spoke.</p><p>"And I'm sorry, too. Look I know I can be an arse and I know that I... couldn't... well I know that I wasn't the man you needed me to be. I dunno what's wrong with me. You're bloody brilliant, Hermione. And beautiful. And smart. And like... one of my favourite people in the whole damn world. If I can't make it work with you then... who can I? Was it so wrong that we couldn't have kept trying? I've talked to Harry a lot, I think I could..."</p><p>She shook her head.</p><p>"We talked about this. You know it wasn't working out. But Ron, you're one of <em>my</em> favourite people. Probably ever. I don't want to lose you forever. I just... I knew it was too painful to stay after I broke your heart - broke my own heart. But I really want us to be in each other's lives. I don't want this to be... it."</p><p>Ron looked relieved.</p><p>"I thought. I thought you wanted to, like, keep away from me. Forever. It was the worst bit, 'Mione. I figured that was it. I'd fucked it. I'd fucked everything."</p><p>She reached across to him and took his hand.</p><p>"No!" she said emphatically. "There's no way I'd want that. I'm so sorry, Ron. I thought I was making it better to give you some space."</p><p>"No, you're probably right. Like always, eh?"</p><p>Harry smiled to himself.</p><p>"I was... I was angry. And sad. And all fucked up in the head. I think I needed it. And Harry" - Ron locked eyes with Harry, who was doing his best to pretend to be a potted plant - "he made sure I was alright. So yeah. I am alright. I think."</p><p>"Oh Ron!" she exclaimed. She stood and he stood and they both hugged over the table as best they could. Harry studiously stared at the folds of fabric and tissue paper on the table.</p><p><em>Huh</em>. <em>Same sort of green as my mother's eyes...</em></p><p>Ron sat back down and rubbed his eyes, which were rather red.</p><p>"Oh!" Hermione gasped, making them both jump. "And I have something to tell you!"</p><p>She reached for her beaded bag again and drew out an opened envelope. She pulled out the letter and read aloud:</p><p>
  <em>Dear Miss Granger,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>As discussed previously, last month's arrests have proven most fruitful in containing the rebel forces. With the confessions of several high profile Death Eaters, we have made considerable progress in regaining security and lessening the threat to you and your parents.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The work is not over yet, however it is my pleasure to let you know that you will be permitted to see your family over the Christmas holidays. The residing Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor, Sonia Hadley, will accompany you to Australia to protect you and assist you in restoring their memories. She is an accomplished and well-travelled Auror with a spellworking background that will help in this area.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Yours,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Kingsley Shacklebolt, Minister of Magic</em>
</p><p>She finished reading and looked up.</p><p>Ron stood, practically ran round the table and pulled them both into a hug. It was like being grappled by a happy bear.</p><p>"Brilliant, 'Mione. That's <em>bloody brilliant!"</em></p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>FINALLY finished setting up these here dominos. Now to knock 'em aaaall down... Stay tuned for fun times in the next chapter... ;P</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. The Christmas Ball</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>You are sooooo welcome.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"What do you think?" Ron asked, spinning slowly.</p><p>Harry gave him an appraising look. Hermione had been right - the robes were practically like new again. The cloak was maybe an inch shorter than it had been, but there was no evidence of any tears down the length of the fabric.</p><p>As Ron returned to facing him, he had to admit - he looked good. <em>Really</em> good. The forest green complimented his hair instead of clashed with it, and the waistcoat made him look taller, somehow. Like it straightened his body out or maybe he was holding himself differently or something. The trousers tapered neatly towards his black shoes, which, through they weren't very shiny, weren't noticeably scruffy either. And Ron had slicked his hair back with wax so it was smooth and a little darker than usual, and tied it in a bun, neatly, at the crown of his head. He wore a copper ring on his little finger on one hand - a family heirloom that Fred had used to like wearing. He looked... older. A little... intimidating, even.</p><p>"Looks great on you, Ron. really suits you," Harry said, realising he'd been silent for too long.</p><p>"Normally I'd avoid green but... actually," his friend twisted and turned in front of the mirror. "I kinda like this."</p><p>"I was the same at the Yule ball. Though my robes were a much darker green then."</p><p>Harry frowned and fiddled with his bow tie. It was silver, to match the lining of his dress robes.</p><p>"Here, let me," Ron said, sweeping over, his cloak billowing in a Snape-esque way. Harry let his hands drop and raised his chin as Ron closed in. He began to redo the knot on his tie with an intense expression.</p><p>"Young love. It's a sight ta see, eh, Nev? Go on, give 'im a kiss then, don't mind us," Seamus teased as he shoved on his dress trousers.</p><p>Harry, instead, gave him a two-fingered salute for his trouble.</p><p>Once Ron stepped away, he inspected himself in the mirror. Ron hadn't done a good job with the tie by any means, but it was better than Harry himself could've managed. He wished, wistfully, that he was just a bit taller. The inch of height his shoes gave him helped, but... <em>Yeah,</em> <em>still a short arse.</em></p><p>He grinned. "Thanks."</p><p>"Now, I think let's start this party early, eh?" Ron said, with a wink. He pulled a small hip flask from an inner pocket. "This stuff'll knock you sideways, mind. Small sips."</p><p>Harry took it and tentatively put the bottle to his nose. Even the smell made his eyes water. He drank a tiny amount, which burned his lips, throat and nose all at once. He coughed.</p><p>"<em>Godric</em>, what's <em>in</em> there?"</p><p>Ron shrugged. "Dunno. Something George made. He's been experimenting with a line of beverages."</p><p>"Are you sure it's not paint stripper?"</p><p>"You boys finished canoodling over here or are you ready to go? And hey, can I have some?" Seamus said, appearing beside them and snatching the flask from Harry hand. He drank and pulled an impressed face.</p><p>"<em>Fuck</em> yeah. Now <em>that's</em> a <em>drink!</em>"</p><p>The five boys trooped down to the Great Hall. The stairs were bustling with students dressed in their finery, all heading in the same direction. It was fun to see everyone wearing colours that weren't just their school uniforms. Instead, Harry's eyes played over the sea of blues, greens, pinks and purples and all at once once, he started to get the point of this ball... because the Houses were... mingling. Without the uniforms, groups from Dumbledore House, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, Gryffindor and even Slytherin were indistinguishable.</p><p>As they reached the door, Luna, Ginny and Hermione waved to greet them. Seamus split off, spotting his date - who happened to be Ursula Spence's older sister. They spoke to one another at a volume that seemed utterly unnecessary. Ginny and Dean followed, arm in arm. Harry found the lion in his chest to be quite thoroughly asleep. Strange, how things change.</p><p>Luna was wearing a yellow dress with frills at the shoulders and lower hem. It had a gauzy cape that floated down her back. She'd braided ribbons in her hair. And she wasn't wearing any shoes.</p><p>"You look lovely, Luna," Neville said.</p><p>She nodded. "And you look very pretty, too, Neville."</p><p>"Thank you?"</p><p>She crooked her elbow and he took it.</p><p>Harry looked at Hermione, who - he had to admit - was radiant. She'd ditched the hair-smoothing potions in favour of piling her curls on top of her head and wrapping a silk tie around them at the base, so they cascaded at all angles but were somehow artistically arranged. She wore intricate earrings, colourful, with enamel and fabric and metal all bound together, that matched her necklace. Her dress was simple, elegant navy blue satin, with detailed hems, a square neckline and tight sleeves that billowed at the elbow. She had a matching robe over her shoulders, with holes cut for her arms. She looked more <em>herself</em> than she had at the Yule ball, if that made sense, Harry thought. Not so polished, more refined, but comfortable.</p><p>"You look nice, Harry," she complimented him. "Do you want me to fix your tie?"</p><p>He reached up to his throat. "Um. No it's fine like this."</p><p>He then had a thought.</p><p>"Uh. Do you have a date, 'Mione?"</p><p>She gave Ron a steady, questioning look. He quirked a corner of his lip upward. Nodded.</p><p>"I. I do actually," she said. "Someone asked me and... well. I thought it would be good for me. I hope that's OK, Ron?"</p><p>Ron clutched his chest dramatically, then punched her lightly on the arm.</p><p>"I'm not your keeper," was all he said.</p><p>Harry wondered what, if anything, was going on inside his friend's head. Still, to look at him, he seemed... fine. It was a far cry from the state he'd been in a few weeks ago. No, months ago, now. More change, again.</p><p>"Who is it?" Harry asked.</p><p>"Oh. Um Anthony Goldstein. From Ravenclaw. Well, he was, before he was in our House. He should be meeting me in a minute."</p><p>"Cool. Well, we'll see you in there?" Ron said.</p><p>"For sure," Hermione replied. She squeezed his arm. "Thanks, Ron."</p><p>"Let me know if you want me to beat him up for you."</p><p>She giggled. "If it warrants it, I certainly will."</p><p>Harry, Ron, Neville and Luna entered through the double doors. The Great Hall was decked out to the nines. The Weird Sisters were playing on the stage that had been erected at the front. The whole place was covered in gold, with gold balloons, gold tinsel, floating golden candles and even the air seemed to sparkle. No - yep it <em>was</em> sparkling, with tiny particles of gold that never seemed to settle; they just remained suspended, glinting, in the air.</p><p>Ron gripped his elbow. "Harry, <em>look."</em> He pointed.</p><p>Where all the other tables had been replaced with a few round tables, one long table still remained, all along one side. And it was heaving with buffet food: towers of gold, bubbling flutes; platter after platter of mince pies, pastries and delicate little cakes; gold-fish bowls of punch with glistening gold ladles, and every canapé you could imagine. The House ghosts were floating above it all, having their own party by the looks of it.</p><p>"Oh I love this song..." Luna said, dreamily, behind them as Ron steered Harry towards the food. They both loaded up their plates and cups, found an empty table and tucked in. The flutes were full of champagne. Apparently seventh and eighth years were the only students allowed to drink it. And there was <em>plenty</em> to go around.</p><p>Unlike the last ball he'd been to, Harry actually found himself enjoying this one. Once they'd had their fill and drank enough champagne to give them both hiccups, he found himself whirling round the dance floor in a big circle with half of Dumbledore House and a few others besides. Only a handful of the purebloods knew how the dance was meant to go, so they - rather drunkenly - directed. Ron had no idea, however, but seemed to get quite into it. He was even muttering the moves to himself. "Kick one, left step, kick two, right step, hands up, big cheer, skip round and round and round..."</p><p>The music then switched to a jig, and Ron didn't miss a beat in grabbing Harry and locking their elbows. He had a wicked grin plastered across his face.</p><p>"Woo-eee!" he whooped.</p><p>Harry suddenly found himself hurtling around in a circle, faster than his drink-addled legs could handle. He collapsed into Ron and they both laughed so hard their bellies ached and they had to go sit down again for a bit.</p><p>Later, sat watching a slow dance played to one of the Weird Sisters' more sombre numbers, Ron nodded his head towards Hermione and Goldstein as they drifted past. They were swaying absent-mindedly in each other's arms, but seemed more intent on an intense conversation between them than the dance. Hermione had her 'explaining stuff' face on. Goldstein was nodding.</p><p>"They look good together," he said.</p><p>Harry, knackered, drunk and feeling like his heart was twice the size it should be, leaned his head on Ron's shoulder.</p><p>"Sure you're alright?" he asked. The velvet felt nice against his cheek.</p><p>"Yeah. It's still a bit. I dunno. Bit of a stabby kinda feelin'. But not bad. I think... I think she was right, you know. I dunno what I want, but I guess that wasn't it."</p><p>"'Mione's always right."</p><p>"Pretty much, yeah."</p><p>Harry lifted his head. He'd spotted across the room... <em>Is that Neville... talking to Blair Zabini?</em></p><p>The pair of them were sat in a corner, and it was one of the weirdest things he'd ever seen, like a friendship between a - his head was a bit foggy - between a duck and a crocodile. Or something. They seemed, even, to be <em>smiling</em> at one another.</p><p>He didn't think Ron had noticed yet and decided not to mention it. Tonight was not about the Slytherins - <em>ex-Slytherins -</em> tonight was about, err. Fun. A mate-date, was it?</p><p>He pulled Ron to his feet. Ron clearly wasn't expecting it and sort of fell into him, nearly bowling him over. <em>Seriously, when did he get so much bigger than me?</em></p><p>"What we doin'?" Ron asked, steadying himself.</p><p>Harry giggled. Maybe he was drunker than he realised. <em>No more for me...</em></p><p>"I dunno. Tango?"</p><p>Ron grinned and pulled him in by the waist. He took one hand in his and extended their arms stiffly. Harry rested his other hand lightly on his shoulder.</p><p>"Tango it is!" he announced.</p><p>Then, he marched them across the dancefloor, aiming, at some velocity, on a collision course for where Finnigan was trying to schmooze a kiss out of his date. Harry laughed against his chest as he was puppeteered into running 'gross-snogging-couple-interference' around the dancefloor, leaving disaster in their wake.</p><p>
  <em>OK, so dancing CAN be fun. Sometimes.</em>
</p><p>As the night wore on, Harry found he was starting to run out of steam. Ron, who had been sipping from his flask all evening, had become totally intoxicated and was currently singing an old wizarding shanty arm-in-arm on the other side of the room with Seamus, Justin Finch-Fletchley and Ernie Macmillan. Hagrid was directing them like a giant - blind, deaf - choirmaster. They were stupendously off key, off tempo and off their faces.</p><p>Deciding he could do with some fresh air, he slipped out of the double doors and went to sit on the front steps of the castle.</p><p>It was a crisp, clear night, but he was hot from the dancing and the food and the drink, so the light breeze was a welcome addition. He shuffled over so his back was against a cool, stone pillar and closed his eyes.</p><p>
  <em>Yeah, that's nice...</em>
</p><p>"Hey."</p><p>He felt a presence sit beside him. He opened one eye, not immediately recognising the voice.</p><p>"Uhh..."</p><p>"Yes Potter, 'tis I, your great nemesis, here to do something hideously nefarious like offer you an out-of-date biscuit or something."</p><p>Malfoy was sitting next to him.</p><p>Harry tried to wrangle his brain into action. Draco Malfoy was sitting. Next. To him.</p><p>He opened both eyes. Malfoy was cast in profile against the glow of the lamps that lit the banisters. He had his hair tied back with a black ribbon - his usual style - and he seemed to be wearing the same robes he'd worn at the last ball. The black velour ones with the high collar that made him look...</p><p>"You look like a vicar," Harry blurted.</p><p>"What the fuck's a 'vicar'?" Malfoy asked, peering at him quizzically. Harry could smell the alcohol on his breath. OK, so they were both pretty drunk. Not in a fit state to duel. Probably. He lowered his guard. A bit.</p><p>"Nevermind. What. Err. Do you want something?"</p><p>"Just..." Malfoy waved a hand. "Talk, I guess."</p><p>"'Bout what?"</p><p>
  <em>This is so weird...</em>
</p><p>Malfoy shrugged. Harry waited but the boy seemed to have fallen mute. He looked up at the stars overhead. They were bright tonight. He could pick out the constellations. He wondered if Trelawney would have said something mystical and bound to annoy the pants off Hermione, if she'd been there. There was certainly something more magical about the night sky above Hogwarts than just about anywhere else, he had to admit.</p><p>It was peaceful. Quiet. The sounds of the party were muffled through the thick doors.</p><p>"I saw Zabini talking to Neville in there," he said.</p><p>Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "Seriously? That seems... unlikely. Longbottom hasn't said boo to one of us since the start of term. Least of all Blair. I think... I think she scares people."</p><p>Harry snorted. "Yeah, right."</p><p>"No not like that. I mean. People don't know what to make of her. Or I suppose of any of us."</p><p>"You are Death Eaters. it's kinda to be expected."</p><p>"And yet you seem to have no trouble talking to me," Malfoy shot back. "Besides, only I carry the Dark Mark. The others... yes they were sympathetic to the 'cause', but they were hardly involved in any big evil plots or anything."</p><p>"Unlike you."</p><p>"Unlike me." Malfoy nodded. "But I, the one idiot with too little brains to avoid the damn thing."</p><p>
  <em>Speaking of evil plots...</em>
</p><p>"Why are you-" Harry stopped, wondering how to ask this without giving away the Marauder's Map... or without sounding like a creepy stalker.</p><p>"Why are you err, in the dungeons a lot?" He figured at least Malfoy knew he'd seen him there once. It maybe made sense he had spotted him there a few times.</p><p>"I. Um. Well it comes back to Blair, actually."</p><p>It was Harry's turn to raise a questioning eyebrow.</p><p>Malfoy leaned his elbows on his knees and rested his face in his hands, looking out across the grounds, which were swallowed in darkness apart from the lights of Hagrid's hut - left on for Fang, probably - and the greenhouses.</p><p>"At the start of the year he, sorry, <em>she</em> - I've known her for years, honestly, still trying to get that right - told us about what she wanted to do. She'd been to mediwizards, been assessed, everything. She asked Pomfrey and the old bat said no. She wasn't equipped, she didn't have the expertise, yada yada. But then I went to Tang and she said she had some experience in administering the potion, but even <em>then</em> Pomfrey refused and... Potter, if you'd seen how miserable the whole thing was making Blair - if it was one of your lot, Weasley or Granger - you'd have fought for them, right?"</p><p>"'I'll do it myself if I have to'..." Harry remembered.</p><p>Malfoy gave him an odd look.</p><p>"Yeah? That's... that's what I said. And I did, I managed to brew the potion once, but Tang caught me and she stopped me from giving it to Blair. Good thing, too. I'd uh, messed up on one or two of the steps. God knows what it would've done, probably turned her into a bat or something.</p><p>"So they called a meeting with McGonagall and me and Blair and the professors. They decided that they were going to allow Blair to take the <em>Transgenus Personas</em> potion. And Tang asked me to help make it, because it has to be taken so frequently and she said she had extra-curriculars to run, not to mention the Alchemy classes-"</p><p>"Alchemy?" Harry interrupted.</p><p>"It's like... more advanced Potions. She's running a class for me and a few others. Because we already covered most of the Potions curriculum last year. Before... all that shit happened."</p><p>
  <em>Oooh, so THAT'S why Malfoy wasn't taking Potions this year.</em>
</p><p>"Anyway, so a few mornings a week, or sometimes in the evening, I help her make the potion for Blair. And I try to go with her to see Pomfrey, before you ask about that. I bet Pomfrey's told you, since you - what is it? Work with her now? Or is it just classes?"</p><p>Harry tapped his nose. "Healer-patient confidentiality. Not said a word."</p><p>"Oh. Well yeah, that's... that's what I've been doing in the dungeons. So much for 'watching me'," he chuckled.</p><p>Harry wanted to ask why he'd been all over the castle, too, but he stopped himself. There was no way to broach that subject without sounding crazy. Instead, the bandage on the edge of Malfoy's hand caught his eye.</p><p>"How's the hand?"</p><p>Malfoy inspected it. The palm was wrapped in a fresh bandage, but the fingers all looked unscathed.</p><p>"Nearly healed. Should be fine by next term, Pomfrey said. Just need to keep changing the bandages. Which is a pain in the arse, I'll tell you. They feel like they're ripping the skin right off again every time I do it."</p><p>Harry grimaced. He didn't push the subject further, though he was aching to know how Malfoy had injured himself in the first place. But they were... talking. Being civil. He didn't want to overstep and have the whole thing grind to a halt. It was odd to learn that all term the pair of them had been dancing around one another in the hospital wing, in the dungeons, near, but not quite meeting...</p><p>"I wanted to thank you properly. For healing my hand. I'm grateful, Potter. You didn't have to do that."</p><p>Harry's eyes crossed at the outstretched hand in front of his nose. He reached out, shook it, then pulled away. His heart was beating very fast all of a sudden.</p><p>"Um. You're welcome."</p><p>Malfoy nodded. Opened, then closed his mouth. Harry was about to try to fill the gap in the conversation when he spoke again.</p><p>"I am trying this year, you know."</p><p>"Trying?"</p><p>Malfoy sighed and rubbed his face. He was swaying slightly, the champagne and the tiredness clearly battling for dominance.</p><p>"Trying not to be a raging cunt, Potter."</p><p>Harry snorted, choked and nearly had a coughing fit. Malfoy - tentative - shuffled closer and patted him on the back.</p><p>"Erm. Wasn't expecting-" Harry wheezed, eyes burning. He rested his head on the pillar, his hand on his - now sore - stomach. "Sorry."</p><p>"As I was saying, I've been doing my level best to be at least fifty percent less evil this year. How am I doing?"</p><p>Harry couldn't stop the grin spreading over his face.</p><p>"Oh, I'd say you're rocking about a twenty, twenty-five percent decrease. The Zabini stuff's definitely earned you points."</p><p>"Points? Didn't realise you were counting, Potter."</p><p>"And I don't think you've hexed anyone. Yet. That's gotta be a point or two."</p><p>"Ah well, then I do have one small confession to make there." Malfoy blushed. "You know the luck potion? Felix Felicis?"</p><p><em>I am indeed aware.</em> He nodded.</p><p>"Well there's actually also a mild anti-luck potion - not nearly as potent as Felix Felicis, but... effective. For petty revenge."</p><p>Harry straightened, realisation dawning. "You didn't..."</p><p>"Potter, he got me in the thigh with a Whiz-Bang and I was mad, alright? It was just a few drops..."</p><p>"A horse broke his nose, Malfoy. And Professor Sprout gave him detention."</p><p>Malfoy laughed. "Weasley broke his nose? A horse? Where did he even - oh the big oaf, I bet. You're still taking Care of Magical Creatures?"</p><p>Harry wagged a finger. "Minus five evil git points," he admonished.</p><p>"Fine - <em>Hagrid</em>. And I wouldn't have him as a teacher for another year even if you resurrected the Dark Lord and had him Imperius me over to that damn hut."</p><p>"You're sure you're trying to be less of a git, Malfoy?"</p><p>"Baby steps, Potter. Baby steps. We've had a long time in set roles. I'm just trying to carve out a new one. Think you've been doing the same, right?"</p><p>Harry felt himself caught in the warm grey of Malfoy's eyes as they sparkled with humour. It was like they were old soldiers, he thought. Old soldiers who'd fought in the same war. Sent out like pawns by distant Generals. More alike than one another cared to admit, and far more alike than those who had pitted them against one another.</p><p>Malfoy had grown up under his father's thumb. When, exactly, had he had a chance to learn any different? it wasn't like Harry had helped much, rejecting his hand of friendship on the first day of school. Fighting with him, making fun of him. Yeah he'd been an arse back, two- no threefold, but in a way, Harry had started it. And the war... the war made all of that stuff seem stupid, even though it wasn't, because it defined the events of their sixth year, that Malfoy was caught in a terrible position, and Snape and Dumbledore, too. It was like an inevitable set of steps played out, with every action not a choice, but a predetermined event, leaving Malfoy as powerless as Harry felt, always. Powerless to choose. Defined by the choices of others. Protecting himself, and the people he loved. He'd made bad choices, but even Harry had to admit they weren't all his fault. What would he have done? In the same position?</p><p>Malfoy was staring back at him. His lips, Harry noticed, were slightly parted. Warm air drifted from them in a cloud with every shallow breath.</p><p>"I'm sorry," the blonde whispered, his eyes never leaving Harry's.</p><p>And he was, Harry could tell. So sorry, so full of shame and guilt that he was trembling with it. Like cracked glass. One tap would shatter the whole of him.</p><p>Harry leaned forward and put his hand on Malfoy's arm.</p><p>"I-" he started to speak, but Malfoy took him by the tie that had come undone sometime in the night. He tugged, gently.</p><p>Harry felt himself tip forward. His hand, unbidden, slid to Malfoy's shoulder blade. He tilted his head, instinctively.</p><p>And Malfoy was kissing him.</p><p>He was soft. Soft and warm and he ran his tongue over Harry's lips with an aching, feather-light touch. Harry felt his mouth part to welcome him, deepening the kiss ever so slightly. They parted, by millimetres, then came together again, and again, each time more firmly, but still so gentle, so uncertain, like they were holding back. Trying not to break one another. Trying not to shatter.</p><p>Malfoy's breath was hot; the tip of his nose against Harry's cheek cold from the night air. His fingertips, which had slid up to caress his neck were also cold. It was like kissing fire and ice all at once. It made Harry's heart pound, a rising flame that started in his stomach and travelled up to fuel the engine inside of him, to make his blood soar. What was he doing? What the <em>fuck</em> was he doing? But he didn't want to stop. He couldn't stop the need to kiss him again, as they parted a tiny fraction once more, couldn't stop his body yearning for more, as he leaned in and closed the gap.</p><p>"No! Harry's <em>mine!"</em></p><p>Suddenly, he felt a hand slam down on his shoulder. He was wrenched away from Malfoy's hot and cold kisses. Ron stood there, breathing heavily, swaying in the half-light.</p><p>He dragged Harry up and behind him and shoved Malfoy, who had also leapt up. Malfoy stumbled down a step, only just catching himself.</p><p>Harry couldn't see Ron's face. But, facing them, Malfoy looked terrified. His lips were flushed and curled into a snarl over his white teeth. And Ron's whole body was tense, broad, muscular, enraged. The tension mounted. Then Malfoy took one last look at them both, turned, and ran off into the dark.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Outside the Owlery</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Harry woke up alone, covered in sweat, the last shreds of a nightmare fading into the distance as a pounding headache rose to greet him. His stomach gurgled. He groaned.</p><p>From the next bed over, he heard a reciprocal sound. Ah. So Ron was awake, too.</p><p>He closed his eyes and tried to sort the puzzle pieces of last night in his head. The ball. He remembered dancing... Merlin, he'd been more drunk than he'd realised. Ron's flask. He remembered <em>that</em>. Bloody poisonous stuff. And there was a lot of gold... whirling... sparkling...</p><p>The winter night. Outside. He'd gone outside and-</p><p>He sat up.</p><p>The movement caused his stomach to twist horribly. Clutching his hand to his mouth, he tore the curtains apart and ran to the bathroom. He made it to the toilet in time to heave his guts out with a ghastly, tearing feeling. He shivered as the waves of nausea spooled over him.</p><p>Seamus staggered in behind him.</p><p>"Oh fuck. Harry. M'fuckin' <em>head,"</em> he moaned. Harry heard him open a cabinet door and start rummaging inside like a desperate man. "Hells yes," he heard Finnigan say, before the sound of a cork unstoppering.</p><p>A hand thrust itself into his field of vision.</p><p>"Hangover potion. Go on, take it. Works wonders," Seamus said with a burp.</p><p>He took hold of the half empty glass vial and downed the contents without a second thought. Anything to get rid of the raging headache and the vicious wrenching of his insides.</p><p>Almost immediately, the potion started to have an effect. He sat back on his knees and counted out the minutes as the cool, soothing feeling washed through him, easing the pulsing of his guts, and silencing the drumbeat in his head.</p><p><em>Thank fuck I'm a wizard. How do Muggles deal with this shit?</em> he wondered.</p><p>Seamus was splashing water over his face. Harry joined him at the adjacent sink and did the same, though not before brushing the furry feeling off his teeth and the sour taste off his tongue.</p><p>"Thanks, mate," he said, his voice sounding like he'd swallowed gravel.</p><p>"No worries. Knew we'd need 'em. That was a bloody good night though. Best away and tend to the other boys, eh?"</p><p>Seamus grabbed another couple of vials from the cabinet and headed back into the dorm.</p><p>Harry stayed. His reflection stared back at him. Black hair at a series of insane angles like an electrocuted hedgehog. Green eyes with two dark circles under them. Face dripping with water. Lips that had kissed Draco Malfoy.</p><p>Stupid, disloyal lips. Lips of unprecedented betrayal. Bad, bad... lips.</p><p>He shook his head like a wet dog. Water droplets sprayed the glass. <em>I must stop thinking about lips.</em></p><p>Soft ones, especially. Warm ones, particularly.</p><p>He frowned, trying to piece together what had happened <em>after</em> the... event... He groaned, again, remembering the flash of ginger hair. So Ron... had seen... something.</p><p>Had he?</p><p>He was outside with Malfoy... and then? Then he was staggering up the stairs, Ron holding him up, or maybe he was holding Ron up? He couldn't recall. How had they gotten from outside back to the Den? What had Ron seen? What had Ron <em>said?</em></p><p>It was a blur. For some reason, however, the one bit of the night that stood out crystal clear was that damned kiss.</p><p>What.</p><p>The.</p><p>Fuck.</p><p>"I'm never drinking again," he vowed to himself.</p><p>A voice made him jump. "Think I agree with you there."</p><p>Ron appeared beside him, turned on the tap and plunged his entire head under the water.</p><p>"This is George's fault, you know," he gurgled. "Him and his fucking homebrew bullshit. This hangover stuff kicks in soon, right?"</p><p>Harry tried to swallow past the lump that had appeared in his throat. His reflection was turning pink. He told it off inside his head.</p><p>"Uh. Y-yeah. I'm actually feeling a hell of a lot better now."</p><p>Ron whipped his head up, his hair a scruffy mohawk, half wet, kinked with twists and curls where it'd been tied up before. He clutched his temples with the heels of his hands, then bowed his shoulders until his elbows were resting on the countertop. His eyes were screwed shut.</p><p>"I sure fucking hope so. 'Cause right now, I think I might be dead."</p><p>Without meaning to, Harry felt his lip twitch. How did Ron always manage to be funny, even in the most dire of circumstances? Not that this was a dire circumstance. Exactly. Just that any minute now his friend would clue into what had happened last night and then... then what? Harry had no idea. To fill the time as his heart drummed a staccato against his ribcage, he picked up a towel from the rail and threw it over Ron's head.</p><p>"Fanks," came the muffled reply. Ron towelled himself vigorously and emerged looking even more dishevelled than he could quite pull off while still looking cool. No, this was a step too far. He looked sort of... mad.</p><p>"What you grinnin' for?" he asked.</p><p>Whoops. Harry hadn't meant to be grinning. His face was clearly not obeying him at all, these days. Maybe <em>he</em> was the one going mad. Given recent events, it seemed likely. Since when was snogging boys - snogging <em>Malfoy</em> of <em>all</em> the damn boys on <em>all</em> the damn planet - even vaguely on the Boy Who Lived's to-do list? <em>Since when?</em></p><p>Since when, indeed...</p><p>He remembered, then, that day in <em>Madame Malkin's</em> shop. He remembered all the clipped, strange interactions in their shared Transfiguration classes, the heated moment on the balcony with Zabini, the times he'd bumped into Malfoy in the corridors, the closed eyes, the pained expressions... the almost civil conversation they'd had in Professor Collins' class, a burned hand, shaking, held in his own, the meaningful glances, the unspoken words, the glimpses of understanding that had passed between them over the months.</p><p><em>When was Malfoy... NOT... on the to-do list?</em> a tiny, flippant voice piped up at the back of his mind. He made the mental effort to crush it into dust. <em>First the lips betray me, now my own brain...</em></p><p>He had been quiet too long. And in the space between Ron's question and his silence, he saw a few memories slot into place behind his friend's eyes. Eyes that flashed, and dulled. Abruptly, Ron set the towel down on the sink and brushed past Harry like he wasn't there anymore.</p><p>Harry heard him turn on the shower and start stripping out of his pyjamas behind him.</p><p>
  <em>Shit.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>What now?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Leave.</em>
</p><p>Yes, the best thing to do now was to definitely, definitely <em>leave</em>.</p><p>Harry headed out to the dorm and shoved on some fresh clothes. The others were all still lying in their beds, though they seemed to be awake.</p><p>He wasn't hungry yet, after throwing his guts up, and the last thing he wanted to do was bump into Malfoy at breakfast. He checked the time. OK. Lunch. They were due to head to the Burrow for the holidays that afternoon. He wanted to start packing but... maybe he should go and do something else. Give Ron some space. Hope he hadn't remembered anything too clearly.</p><p>
  <em>No need to panic.</em>
</p><p>Harry picked up his Firebolt, a heavy cloak and his woollen hat. He headed outside, deliberately not looking at the spot on the stairs where he and Malfoy had- where The Event had occurred.</p><p>After a few hours of flying, which was fun but left him way too much time to think, Harry returned to the castle. The light was already starting to dim.</p><p>The Hogwarts Express would've taken most of the students who were leaving by now. A secure floo line in Headmistress McGonagall's office had been arranged though, so they were going to be taking that route back. Technically it was for Hermione and Professor Hadley to travel to the long-distance floo port in Dublin, a stop on their way to Australia to find Hermione's parents. But given it was being set up for them anyway, McGonagall had agreed to allow Ron, Harry and Ginny the use of it to link to the Burrow. Sometimes it was good to be... friends... with the Headmistress.</p><p>That meant, though, that Harry had grossly miscalculated. Here he'd wanted to give Ron space, but now... now it was just him and Ron left in the dorm... the others were gone already. And when Harry returned to the Den, he found Ron was not as happy to see him as usual. Rather, he merely grunted by way of a greeting. And he avoided all eye contact. And he was packing, in silence, in the semi-darkness. In the cold. Harry noticed he had his Weasley-initialled maroon jumper on.</p><p>He went over and lit the fire with a whispered <em>Incendio</em>. His fingers were frozen stumps after so long in the bitter cold, so he stood there for a while to thaw them.</p><p>Then, not really knowing what else to do, he then headed over to his chest of drawers and pulled the top one open. He scooped up a few T-shirts and pants and dumped them on his bed. His trunk was under the bed, so he had to get on his hands and knees to drag it out. It scraped noisily against the stone. As Harry pulled it out he saw over the top of the bed that Ron was looking over at him. As their eyes met, he looked away - too quickly. Harry kept staring for a second longer, then flipped open his trunk and shoved his clothes in. He piled in some books and things he'd need to study while they were away.</p><p>
  <em>Err... what else?</em>
</p><p>He'd ordered a smaller vivarium for Severina's 'holiday home' so he took a good few minutes coaxing her into the new space and reassuring her that, yes, this was only temporary. He gave her an extra pinkie mouse to keep her sweet, which seemed to smooth the whole transition over. He tried to whisper in Parseltongue, conscious of Ron's aversion, but he wasn't sure if that made the sibilant language sound better or worse.</p><p>"I'm gonna go get Pig," Ron said, suddenly. His voice cracked through the quiet and left Harry with goosebumps all down his neck.</p><p>"Sure! Yeah OK."</p><p>He pretended to be searching for something in his bedside drawer as he felt Ron walk towards him.</p><p>"Here's the map by the way, sorry, forgot I had it." Ron threw the Marauder's Map onto Harry's bed.</p><p>"Thanks."</p><p>When Ron left the room Harry let out a huge sigh of relief. If this was what it was going to be like... Godric. And there was a whole two weeks at the Burrow to look forward to. Bloody hell.</p><p>
  <em>I've really fucked things up.</em>
</p><p>Harry let his forehead rest on the bedspread and contemplated his options. Given he couldn't think of any, it was a short session. Surrendering to the fates, he continued packing, all while the voice in his head that sound like a self-righteous goblin berated him for being such a complete and utter idiot.</p><p>After about twenty minutes he'd finished with gathering all his stuff. And Ron wasn't back yet. Which was odd.</p><p>He picked up the map and spelled it into life. As the scrawls of ink spread across the page, he scanned over the Owlery. Not many people about. None round that way, in fact, except two dots in the corridor outside the tower. Ron's.</p><p>And Malfoy's.</p><p>He leapt over the bed and scrambled out onto the balcony, down the stairs, through the portrait and past the landscape of the Battle of Hogwarts faster than it took to finish his thought, which was:</p><p>
  <em>They're going to kill each other.</em>
</p><p>He sprinted along the corridors, skidded around a corner and slowed to catch his breath. The Owlery wasn't much further. He gulped down some precious air.</p><p>Unfortunately, just at the moment, Peeves dropped from the ceiling and tried to upend a suit of armour on his head. Slamming to a halt, he rained hexes on the poltergeist as he flew away, and cursed him for his timing. He then started off again at a light jog.</p><p>
  <em>There, just round the next corner. If I find them both bleeding out on the floor I'm gonna personally strangle that poltergeist...</em>
</p><p>"-so what makes you think you can <em>kiss</em> him?"</p><p>Harry stopped dead. Thinking quickly, he cast a disillusionment charm on himself and skirted round the wall into an alcove that he'd remembered was there. From his vantage point, he could see Ron, shoulders tense, wand in hand. Malfoy was facing him, his hackles up as well. The corridor was otherwise deserted. A row of windows let in the pale, waning light.</p><p>"He'd been drinking. You took fucking <em>advantage</em>," Ron continued. His tone was low. Threatening.</p><p>Malfoy growled.</p><p>"I was drunk, too. And he didn't exactly stop me, did he?"</p><p>"Cause he was fucking drunk, you moron!" Ron repeated.</p><p><em>Oi, I'm not some cowering wallflower!</em> Harry thought. To himself. From his hiding position. In the wall.</p><p>"You make me sick."</p><p>"What? Afraid your precious Potter might fancy blokes?"</p><p>Ron balled his hand into a fist.</p><p>"Obviously the fuck <em>not.</em> I don't give a flying Hippogriff about <em>any</em> of that shite, so you can cross that off your damn list."</p><p>"Huh? But-"</p><p>"Did I give a damn that Zabini's a chick? No. Do I care if Harry fancies blokes? <em>If</em> he does. Which, given what I know about his love life, seems unlikely - in case you were wondering. Not a fucking bit. Do I care if you're as gay as they come? <em>No.</em> Last I bloody checked, I wasn't living in the last bloody century. I don't give a toss about any of that. Never have. Never once said I did. What the hell would give you that stupid idea?"</p><p>Malfoy took a step back. His lips parted. But Ron didn't give him a chance to speak.</p><p>"What? 'Cause I seem like the type who'd get all up in my head about any of that bollocks? No. You make me <em>sick</em> because you're a fucking twisted <em>fuck</em> who'd take advantage of another person, who has hurt people I care about all the time I've known you, who is a bully and a coward and a sneaky, conniving, probably murderous <em>twat</em>."</p><p>"I- I'm not a killer," Malfoy said, clearly trying to find something in the onslaught to reply to. Hell of a choice.</p><p>"Ooh let's just think here. Just the sort of thing a killer would say, right?" Ron was getting into a flow now, jabbing his wand and advancing on him.</p><p>"Listen you slimy git, I know you've been up to some shady shit. Bollocks you've 'changed'. Bollocks. You're just the same worm your mum picked up out of the dirt and raised as her own precious little fuckface. Miss her, do you? In the cell next to Daddy is she?"</p><p>Malfoy went from taken aback to livid in a split second.</p><p>"Don't you DARE talk about my mum!" he roared. He stepped forward too, closing the gap between them. He stuck his finger out and pointed at Ron's chest.</p><p>"She is one of the bravest, most self-sacrificing, intelligent people on this miserable planet, and she deserved none of the shit the papers printed. That trial was a fucking farce. Potter knew it - he even testified that she saved his life. Didn't get her very far though, did it? When <em>The Prophet</em> and the Ministry was out for blood. My blood. My family.</p><p>"And there was nothing we could do except take the handouts, take the 'reduced' sentence for mum, take me ordered here like it wouldn't be hell on Earth to return to this fucking school, take a pittance of an allowance, take everyone thinking I'm nothing but a Dark-Lord-loving loony, take the stares, take the fear in people's eyes - in kid's eyes."</p><p>He pulled up his sleeve to reveal the Dark Mark, stark against his white skin.</p><p>"This is what I am, is it? Just this. Just a fucking puppet, right? Right?!"</p><p>Ron shoved him back. He shook his head.</p><p>"Don't make me laugh. Hardly think you're a puppet, <em>Malfoy</em>. Think you knew exactly what you were doing. Think you're <em>exactly</em> who you appear to be. A fucking Death Eater."</p><p>Malfoy threw his hands up, exasperated.</p><p>"I <em>wish</em> that was who I was! Godric, I wish I had that kind of agency. I wish I had that kind of <em>certainty</em>. You know how sick I feel every fucking time I see Dumbledore's fucking portrait, even? I'm hardly a person! I'm just a... a <em>thing.</em> A thing wandering around, pretending to hold myself together when I'm really one big fucking hole inside! Nothing but nothing...</p><p>"Nothing but shreds of who I thought I was, and who I'm trying to be and <em>nothing</em> in between... just a big empty pit where a person should be. I have NO IDEA what I'm doing. I'm... I'm in the dark. Completely."</p><p>He tapered off.</p><p>"Forgive me for seeking a little light," he said, half to himself.</p><p>Ron turned and stalked away from him. Harry shrank into the alcove, hoping his disillusionment charm was holding up. Thankfully, Ron turned back to face Malfoy again.</p><p>"I dunno what the <em>hell</em> you're on about. You want sympathy? Is that it?" His lip curled.</p><p>"Fuck you, Malfoy. You and your Death Eater pals killed friends of mine, so I think the fuck not. Yeah maybe you weren't directly on the other end of the wand, but you <em>helped</em> murderers. And you made our lives a living hell. For years. That's you. Not any other fucker. No-one else to blame.</p><p>"You looked down your nose at me - what, now you're poor? Ha! Welcome to the fucking club. You might have lost your inheritance, but you're no different. Let's take Hermione, the smartest witch in this damn school - let me guess, what is she? Nothing but a dirty Mudblood, still?"</p><p>Malfoy's eyes flashed. Guilt. Rage.</p><p>"Oh I heard you two didn't have the happily ever after you were looking for," he sneered back. "What happened there then? She dump you?"</p><p>Ron froze. Harry could see his knuckles whiten.</p><p>Malfoy saw it, too. He latched on to the subject with renewed fervour.</p><p>"She did, didn't she? Why? Did she fall for Potter? Or- who was that at the ball last night? Goldstein was it? They seemed all lovey-dovey. She leave you for him?"</p><p>Finding his footing, he stepped forward again, so now both of them were just yards away from Harry's hiding spot.</p><p>"Or maybe..." Malfoy started, a smirk spreading across his face. "Maybe <em>you couldn't get it up?</em> Was that it? Marital problems? It was, wasn't it? Have I hit a ner-"</p><p>He was cut off as Ron barrelled into him.</p><p><em>Not again...</em> Harry thought. Should he intervene?</p><p>But then he heard Malfoy shout a spell and Ron flew back. He managed to land in a crouch, just barely keeping to his feet. His own wand had been knocked from his hand and was rolling down the corridor. He didn't seem to care. He ran at Malfoy once more, but this time, Malfoy sprang back, just about avoiding him.</p><p>"What? Going to hit me? Getting old, Weasley. I've rather enjoyed your more inventive approach of late. Have a Niffler steal my last two galleons, maybe? Or tie my shoe laces together. That sort of thing." He danced out of Ron's reach again.</p><p>"In fact, that's exactly the sort of thing I used to do, isn't it? When I was fourteen mind, not a fucking adult. Then again, you've always been slow."</p><p>Ron lashed out and grabbed him by the collar as he tried to move out of the way.</p><p>"Not that bloody slow," Ron said, triumphantly, between gritted teeth. He tugged Malfoy's wand from his hand and threw it aside. Malfoy's eyes widened. Harry could see the thoughts whirling around in his head. Ron was bigger - sure, not by much, but broader and heavier set. In a straight fight, Malfoy didn't stand a chance.</p><p>He stuck out his chin.</p><p>"Hit me then," he goaded. "Go on. Reverse roles. Embrace it. You're the bully now, right? It's fun being a bastard, isn't it? Rather liberating. So come on. Take my pocket money, tie me to a pillar, hex me, hit me, do whatever. I don't fucking care anymore."</p><p>"I'm no bully," Ron said, with feeling.</p><p>"Yeah? Sure looks that way to me. What the fuck have I done to you this year? Not a damn thing. But everywhere I look, there you are. Making my life more miserable than it already is. I've got to watch what I drink, what I eat, where I step-"</p><p>"Shut up."</p><p>"Here I'll make it easy for you. I can't remember much, but you seemed pretty possessive over Potter the other night. Got a little crush yourself? Jealous?"</p><p>"No. Fucking. Way." Ron slammed Malfoy against the wall. Malfoy gasped as his back hit stone and scrabbled against the iron grip of Ron's fist, but he was pinned in place. He started shouting in a higher and higher pitch.</p><p>"Bet you fancy the pants off him! Bet he rejected you too, is that it? Poor Ronikins, rejected by <em>both</em> his friends, what a fucking <em>shame!</em>"</p><p>"Shut your goddamn mouth, Malfoy!" Ron's ears had gone red. He pulled back enough to drag Malfoy forward and threw him on the ground. He sat atop him, in the middle of the corridor now, and held both his shoulders as he shoved him down.</p><p>"Get off me!"</p><p>"How you gonna stop me?"</p><p>"Oh <em>fuck it.</em> Take anything you want, I've got fuck all but you can have it. Take it!" Malfoy yelled, nonsensically, daring him. Babbling. Ron shoved harder and his head cracked against the stone. He winced.</p><p>"I don't want anything from you. Just shut the fuck up. I want nothing to <em>do</em> with you!" Ron shouted into his face.</p><p>Malfoy arched his neck to the side as he strained, trying, unsuccessfully, to push him off. His legs scrabbled for purchase.</p><p>Ron held on, pressing his body into the stone paving, his face wild with anger. His back was arched. Firm. Unyielding. He weathered the blows from Malfoys fists against his chest and his arms.</p><p>Eventually, Malfoy stilled. Like a deer, caught.</p><p>"You don't want anything from me? That what you said?" he half-whispered, his voice hoarse. His eyes rolled past Harry's disillusioned hiding spot, unseeing, but it was uncomfortably close.</p><p>
  <em>Reeeally wish I had my invisibility cloak on me right about now.</em>
</p><p>"Yeah. That's fucking right." Ron hissed.</p><p>Malfoy turned to glower up at him. They were mere inches apart. The blonde shifted his hips experimentally, but the redhead reaffirmed his grip, holding his sides with his knees and bearing down on him, muscles tensed.</p><p>"I'm not the monster you think I am," Malfoy spat back, bitterly. "I'm done with causes. I'm done with serving powerful wizards who don't deserve my loyalty. All I've ever done was try to survive, Weasley. That's all I've got left. <em>Survive</em> this fucking year. Until I can get out of this place. So I don't care whatever it is you want to do, just get it over with. I'll survive you, too."</p><p>"I. Told. You. I don't want <em>anything</em>."</p><p>"Then why won't you let me go?"</p><p>"Because..." Harry could hear the doubt in Ron's voice. "Because you're a fucking git."</p><p>"Then hit me."</p><p>"No."</p><p>"Then... hurry up and do something. 'Cause this fucking hurts. And it's cold. And I'm tired of fighting."</p><p>"Leave us alone," Ron said.</p><p>Malfoy sighed. "I <em>have</em> been, you moron. All term so far. Pretty successfully, generally speaking. Unless one of you happened to run into me, or start a fucking scene - normally you, by the way - I've spent all year doing my level <em>best</em> to leave you alone."</p><p>"Yeah? Well... you've done a shite job."</p><p>"Apparently. Look. I didn't mean for... I didn't mean for last night to happen. It just did."</p><p>Ron paused.</p><p>"Well... don't let it happen again."</p><p>Malfoy sighed.</p><p>"Seems pretty unlikely, doesn't it? Anything else I can do? Want me to melt spontaneously into the floor every time we happened to be walking through the same corridor?"</p><p>"I don't want anything from you," Ron repeated. Yet again.</p><p>Malfoy screwed up his face in frustration.</p><p>Then, he opened his eyes, suddenly alert. He cocked his head to the side. Harry saw his leg twitch slightly.</p><p>"Don't you?" he asked.</p><p>The words sounded... heavy. Weighted. Curious.</p><p>"No!"</p><p>"Really? Because if I'm not mistaken you seem to be-"</p><p>His words were swallowed as Ron closed the gap between them, his lips clashing furious, insistent, against Malfoy's own. Harry stifled a gasp.</p><p>
  <em>OK... wasn't expecting THAT.</em>
</p><p>He couldn't tear his eyes away, though. Ron had let go of Malfoy's shoulders. He had his elbows on either side of his head, his forearms flat to the floor. Malfoy's hands were tangled in his jumper, clutching where moments before they had been pushing him away, his fingers curled into the knitted fabric like he was holding on for dear life.</p><p>Malfoy groaned against Ron's lips as the kiss deepened and Ron plunged his tongue into his mouth. He pushed upwards with his jaw, hungry for more. Ron shifted his hips against him, moaning and plundering Malfoy's mouth with bruising kisses, and the sound of their excitement sparked Harry's own as he stared at his best friend <em>making out</em> with his worst enemy. Or whatever Malfoy was to him these days. The sounds, each breath, each moan, fanned the burning, soaring feeling in his chest.</p><p>
  <em>I should stop watching. I should stop... this...</em>
</p><p>But he couldn't. Not when Ron let himself be pushed over onto his back, not when Malfoy rolled on top of him and, taking control, started snogging him with matched eagerness. Their hands were roaming all over each of their bodies. Malfoy's fingers tangled in Ron's hair, trailed down his neck... Gripped his throat.</p><p>Ron growled.</p><p>He shoved Malfoy off, practically throwing him to the ground. Malfoy yelped as he went flying.</p><p><em>Oh shit. He's snapped</em>, Harry thought, drawing his wand.</p><p>But no. Ron was standing and he'd dragged Malfoy up with him. He half lifted him by the thighs to perch him on the edge of the windowsill, which was about a metre deep. The sky outside the thick stone walls had grown darker still, so the pair of them were cast in shadows, two bodies entwined.</p><p>Harry stared, disbelieving, as Ron resumed his ferocious attack on Malfoy's lips.</p><p>Malfoy went from tense to relaxed in a second. He didn't stop either. In fact, he wrapped his legs around Ron's waist and pulled him in to lock him firmly in place. Ron held his sides, grinding against him like he couldn't bear the thin layers of fabric between them; possessive, his back muscles rippling with the effort, like a tiger subduing its prey; insistent, like he <em>needed</em> him to hold him back or he wouldn't - couldn't - stop.</p><p>But Malfoy didn't hold back. He didn't hesitate at all as he scratched and tugged up and down the curve of his spine, his whole body begging for more. Ron moaned and lifted his head, raised a hand and turned Malfoy's neck to the side with a jerk. He shoved his hips towards him, faster, harder, as he bit down on the exposed skin. Malfoy shivered and gasped, his eyes closed, his lips caught between his teeth.</p><p>Just then, Harry noticed his disillusionment charm was starting to fade. The crackle of magic around him dissipating second by second.</p><p><em>Shit</em>.</p><p>Harry crept out of the alcove, his eyes never leaving the writhing pair as they clung to one another, moved against one another, held one another, unaware of anything around them.</p><p>He tiptoed around the corner and leaned against the wall, trying to make sense of what he'd just seen. Behind him, he heard Ron moan again, louder, making the hot feeling in his chest radiate in a wave, climbing to his face, descending... lower. Much lower.</p><p>It was time - <em>long</em> past time - for him to leave. He set off as quickly and quietly as he could, breaking into a run just as soon as he'd put enough distance between them that he wouldn't be heard.</p><p>He arrived at the dorm room, breathless. His head was spinning.</p><p>
  <em>What the hell just happened? What the actual hell did I just witness? First last night, and now... Ron and... Malfoy? That was more than a fucking kiss, it was a couple of layers of clothing away from... well, something else entirely. What the fuck is going ON?</em>
</p><p>He was still trying to figure out if he was going crazy minutes later when he heard a noise behind him. He span round.</p><p>It was Ron - <em>fuck</em> - looking very dishevelled, his lips pink and swollen, his shirt untucked and his jumper ridden up over one hip. He was breathing heavily. And holding a cage with a tiny bouncing owl in it in one hand.</p><p>"You were gone a while," Harry found himself blurting out.</p><p>Ron, staring resolutely at the floor, started bolt upright as if he'd been stupefied.</p><p>"Um! Yeah."</p><p>His head tipped towards the owl, which was shrieking. He thrust his arm out.</p><p>"Pig! Pig refused to get in his cage. Had to catch him."</p><p>
  <em>Yeah, right...</em>
</p><p>He marched over to his bed, practically threw the owl down onto it and slammed the open lid of his trunk shut. Harry tried to school his face into a normal expression. He couldn't quite remember how.</p><p>"Come on," Ron said, still not looking at him in any case. "We're already late."</p><p>
  <em>Well, whose fault is that, lover boy?</em>
</p><p>The voices in Harry's head were really getting out of hand.</p><p>Still, he wasn't wrong. Harry and Ron gathered their things and rushed up to Headmistress McGonagall's office where Ginny, Hermione, Professor Hadley and the Headmistress herself were waiting, all of them looking rather annoyed. Ginny rolled her eyes and pointed out how Ron looked like he'd slept in his clothes. He shot back a scathing, if stumbling, reply.</p><p>It was a hurried set of goodbyes. Harry had the presence of mind to wish Hermione good luck with her parents, and Ron parroted something along those lines as well. She hugged them both. Then she and the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor disappeared into the green fire. McGonagall wished the three remaining students a Merry Christmas and asked for them to send her best wishes to Mr and Mrs Weasley.</p><p>One by one, they stepped into the fire, threw down the floo powder and shouted their destination in amongst the flames.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. No, There Won't be Any Mistletoe</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Before they could even step out of the fireplace proper, Molly had enveloped them in a crushing hug. She smelled like cinnamon and nutmeg. Over her shoulder Harry saw the living room was festooned with Christmas decorations, red, green, gold, and there was a towering Christmas tree, somewhat lopsided and surrounded by glittering wrapped packages.</p><p>"Oh Ginny, my dear - Ron, tuck that shirt in won't you? <em>Harry -</em> it's so wonderful to see you.<em>"</em></p><p>"Missed you too, mum," Ron muttered.</p><p>"Come in, come in. Get your things upstairs, then. We're doing the mulled wine at the minute so don't be long. And your father says he needs some help with the lights for the front porch. Oh and George'll be late he says - shop's heaving, apparently. Last minute gifts, I expect."</p><p>Ron brightened. "Does he need a hand?"</p><p>Molly wagged a finger. "You're not getting out of helping with those lights that easy. He's fine. Come on. Get to."</p><p>She hurried them out into the hallway and Harry dragged and bumped his trunk behind him, Severina's cramped vivarium under one arm. It had a spell on it so it was a bit bigger on the inside than it appeared, but certainly not as roomy as her usual abode. Still, it was a lot easier to carry.</p><p>"See you down there," Ginny said, cheerfully, as she reached the landing her room was on. She waved from the doorway.</p><p>Harry nodded and then wished he had a hand free to push his glasses back up his nose when they slid forward by a centimetre at the motion. He tried to tilt his head back and wrinkle his nose enough that they'd fall back into place, to no avail.</p><p>Giving up, he followed Ron up the stairs, which were awkward, narrow and wooden. They creaked as if in protest with every step. Ron elbowed his door open once he reached the top. He backed through the narrow opening, his trunk catching on the carpet-divider. Pigwidgeon was hooting and squeaking with excitement.</p><p>"Shut it, feathery git!" Ron said, wrenching his trunk back. He set the owl down and immediately threw an old plaid blanket over the cage. Pig kept hooting, but was considerably muffled, and quietened as Harry also proceeded to wrestle his way into the attic room.</p><p><em>The problem,</em> Harry thought, <em>with travelling for miles in an instant, is it can feel like a lot of time should have passed, too. Except it hasn't, and Ron was locking lips with Draco fucking Malfoy about a half hour ago, and my head is probably going to explode.</em></p><p>He was acutely aware, as he set Severina down on the floor and chucked his trunk on the bed, that Ron had yet to say a word to him since they'd arrived. And he was also acutely aware that he could feel every one of the hairs on the back of his neck.</p><p>He turned and found the redhead was looking right at him.</p><p>
  <em>Do I say something? What exactly? 'Oh see that incident from last night, well I just happened to watch you blow that shit right out of the water with a snogging session that'd make a Veela blush. By the way I'm apparently stalking you?'</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Or maybe...</em>
</p><p>'<em>Was it good for you, too?'</em></p><p>Harry really wished he could find, corner and kill the creature in his brain that kept thinking <em>insane</em> things and putting them in his <em>damn</em> head.</p><p>"Uh-"</p><p>"M'gonna get some wine," Ron said, standing. He swept out the room.</p><p>"Good idea..." Harry said after him. The hangover seemed like a distant memory, now. And boy, did he need a drink.</p><p>The days leading up to Christmas were nothing if not a little frantic. Harry had failed to put shopping at the top of his list during term, so was thankful when Arthur offered to take them all to Diagon Alley 'just to pick up a few things'. It turned out he had half his list to buy for as well.</p><p>"Don't tell Molly," he pleaded. "She thinks I had this all sorted in November. Who is ever that organised, I ask you?"</p><p>They agreed to keep his secret and then all split off in different directions. Diagon Alley was jam-packed with shoppers. It was raining and a bit windy - not exactly a white Christmas, but still, the glow of fairy lights (<em>Now With Real Fairies!</em>) reflected against the puddles in a festive dance, and bundled in his cloak and hat, Harry felt perfectly snug.</p><p>He browsed half-heartedly, his mind on other things. Hoping she needed a new set, he chose some dragon-fire-proof oven mitts for Molly that were being advertised with a 'Lifetime Guarantee (human lifespan only)' by a bubbly young witch. He got a bottle of whisky and a year planner for Arthur. For Ginny he decided on a thick almanac of Quidditch World Champions, 1807-1997. Percy got a scarf, and though he was tempted to get George a pair of ear muffs, he decided that maybe he'd leave the ear jokes to Lee Jordan. In the end, he picked up a voucher from a portrait painter's studio. It didn't have an expiry date, so he figured even if he didn't want to now, maybe in a while he'd like to have a small picture of Fred to hang up in the shop or something.</p><p>Bill and Fleur were skiing in the alps, so he didn't have to get them anything, but for Charlie he found a tin of shortbread and a pack of socks - 'Insulated with Firefox fur - shed coats only' they said on the label. Hermione had told him not to buy her anything, so naturally he decided to ignore her. He headed to Flourish and Blotts. There, he picked up a set of earrings that doubled as reading lights and a random series of three books by the same author - similar to the kind with the pink covers he'd seen her reading a lot of lately. He figured he'd give them to her when they got back to school. As he purchased them, the lady at the till gave him a queer look, for some reason.</p><p>Feeling like he'd managed to make good progress, he ticked people off on his mental list. Who was left? Teddy and Mrs Tonks were coming on Christmas day. So, he stopped off at a toy shop. It was - he found - a lot easier to buy stuff for kids. He came away with a bag bulging with a toy train set that would spout jets of steam as it travelled along the track, a stack of puzzles and games, and a medium-sized brown stuffed bear that had that timeless, keep-it-forever kind of vibe to it. It looked like a 'Harold'.</p><p>That left Mrs Tonks and... and Ron. He set his bags down around his ankles and blew on his fingers. Ron, who had been practically monosyllabic for the past several days now, and who was refusing to look him in the eye. Ron who had been in an increasingly foul mood. Ron who was probably stomping around somewhere nearby getting even more annoyed by the whole business of buying Christmas presents. Ron, who Harry hadn't enjoyed being around very much at all, lately. <em>Actually</em>, Harry mused, thinking of the other night when Ron had yelled at Ginny for getting in his way on the stairs, <em>I don't think any of the Weasleys are enjoying being around Ron right now.</em></p><p>He was near <em>Ollivanders</em>, so he grabbed his bags and headed in. At least he could say hello and give himself some time to think.</p><p>The frail old man was alone, sipping from a mug as he stood by a small grate. He smiled at Harry as he walked in.</p><p>"Harry Potter. My boy. It's good to see you."</p><p>"You too," Harry said, grinning. He pulled off his hat and joined him by the fire. "How have you been?"</p><p>"Better than I was. Recoveries. Setbacks. Such is life."</p><p>Harry nodded.</p><p>"Makes sense," he said, lacking a better response.</p><p>"Are you looking for anything in particular?"</p><p>"Um, just came in to say hi really..." A thought occurred to him. "Do you sell anything other than wands, by any chance?" Didn't hurt to ask.</p><p>"I of course sell wand boxes, stands, grips, wrist mounts, wand polishing kits, that sort of thing?"</p><p>"Oh err. That's OK, I don't think he needs... um. Thank you anyway."</p><p>"And there's a new range I'm working on."</p><p>Harry's curiosity was piqued. Ollivander took him through to the back room, which, as ever, was a mes of wand boxes caked in dust. He pulled out a flat, wide case and opened it. Inside, nestled in slots in the fabric, were rows of simple wooden ovals, slightly larger than a galleon, with two holes punched near either end. They were all sorts of different types of wood, some dark, some light or reddish. Each had a tiny label under it.</p><p>Ollivander picked one of them up. He handed it to Harry.</p><p>"Tell me what you feel."</p><p>Harry puzzled at the smooth wooden circle in his palm. It was surprisingly weighty for such a small object. He could feel... something... He concentrated. It was... different. Distant. Weaker. But a familiar feeling. The same feeling he got when he held his-</p><p><em>Accio oven mitts</em>, he thought, experimentally. Molly's gift whizzed in from the other room and he caught it in mid-air.</p><p>Ollivander clapped his hands together.</p><p>"Most excellent. They are magical conduits you see. With a core and a wood pairing intended to allow the wearer - see you loop a cord or a chain through the holes there - to perform wandless spells more easily. Not nearly as powerful an attunement as when the wand chooses the wizard - or witch - but certainly a great help when one is left, shall we say, otherwise powerless."</p><p>Harry remembered the months the poor man had spent trapped in Voldemort's clutches. This... made a lot of sense.</p><p>"Wow, this is... that's a bloody <em>great</em> idea."</p><p>Ollivander's eyes twinkled.</p><p>"And useful in day-to-day life of course. There are many circumstances when the wand is not always the best tool for the job and wandless magic can be less predictable than one would like. Say when one's hands are full and so on.</p><p>"It's a niche case, but illustrates the point: take wandless magic while in an Animagus form - for example - very simple magics can be performed, but the form requires an emotional connection to the animal spirit, not a human one. And magic is driven by intent, yes, but also by emotion. So to perform even the most basic of spells is a trial. However, with one of these, one can be both animal and spellcaster - to a greater degree, at least.</p><p>"I have been working on these on and off with the help of a Dr Khatri, who I believe is teaching at Hogwarts these days. A powerful witch skilled in the Transfiguration arts, and the fine attention to detail required for such simple, yet delicate works. You know her?"</p><p>"Yeah, I'm in her class actually."</p><p>"Marvellous. Do send my regards."</p><p>Harry flipped the smooth wooden amulet over in his hand.</p><p>"That one is of a very similar model to your wand: holly - with an Augurey feather rather than a Phoenix's. Those are rather impossible to come by these days, I'm afraid." Ollivander said.</p><p>Harry smiled.</p><p>"Great. I'll take it. And uhh, got one with unicorn hair in it?" he asked.</p><p>A couple of hours later, he Apparated back to a full-on war. Ginny was screaming something a Ron, who was yelling back at her at an equal volume. Percy was bristling with indignity. Molly was banging pots and pans in the kitchen with more punctuation than usual. Even Crookshanks, who'd made the occasional appearance now he'd gotten used to living at the Burrow, was a ball of hissing, spitting fur. He was also half way up the tree.</p><p>Harry dropped his bags and sidled up to Percy.</p><p>"What happening?" he whispered.</p><p>Percy sighed. A long, deep sigh.</p><p>"He's just... being an arse, Harry. What do you expect?"</p><p>
  <em>Honestly, I don't know what to expect these days, bud...</em>
</p><p>Taking what appeared to be the safest route, Harry dragged his shopping up to the attic and started sorting out wrapping paper and cards. Below him, minutes later, he heard Ginny's bedroom door slam shut.</p><p>With most everything wrapped, he cut some of the dark brown leather cord he'd bought into sections. He tied a knot around each end of his own wooden amulet and experimentally pulled it over his head. He inspected himself in the mirror. Sat around his neck, the cord was long enough that he could easily tuck it away under his shirt. Deciding he would wait until after Christmas to start wearing it, he hid it away in his trunk. Then, he picked up Ron's. Willow, with - ironically - an Abraxan winged horse's hair as its core.</p><p><em>He</em> was fine with just the cord, but just tying it to Ron's present seemed... a little underwhelming? It definitely looked a bit half-baked...</p><p>He picked up the wooden oval and the cord and went downstairs to the landing. He knocked on Ginny's door, which, he realised as she opened it, he hadn't done since... well... since July.</p><p>"Oh it's you, Harry. Mum need me or something? I'm not going down if that pig's still there."</p><p>"No. I uh. Could you help me with something? Please?"</p><p>She opened the door wider and beckoned him in. He entered the familiar room - as covered in Quidditch posters as Ron's own, though with less of a <em>Chudley Cannons</em> theme - and she closed the door behind them. She grinned and raised an eyebrow.</p><p>"Tell me I can help you with something <em>other</em> than activities from our summer-of-love playbook?" she mocked.</p><p>Harry rolled his eyes.</p><p>"Good," she continued. "'Cause things are going pretty well between me and Dean these days."</p><p>"I am... aware," Harry said, with a smirk. "And no, it's this actually. How do I do those, err, braid things?"</p><p>He held up the amulet and cord. Ginny took it and turned it over.</p><p>"What is it?"</p><p>Harry explained. She was duly impressed. He then watched as she showed him how to knot the cord in a decorative braid, and she even took the clasp from an old necklace she never wore and pinched it onto each end so it looked nice and finished. It ended up a good bit shorter than Harry had intended, but he figured at least it looked like a proper thing now instead of a hodgepodge.</p><p>He went upstairs, finished wrapping and ferried the presents down to the Christmas tree, which was already piled high with gifts. Despite the fact that Ron wasn't speaking to him and had pissed off his entire family, and despite not knowing what the hell he was meant to do or say or think about the whole Malfoy situation, which was still taking up a lot of room in his brain, Harry found he was actually looking forward to Christmas day.</p><p>The next morning was a blur of breakfast, Christmas lunch preparations and tidying. Harry was pretty sure he'd never peeled so many potatoes in his life. Still, Arthur kept filling up his cup with alternating beverages, mulled wine, mead, just a <em>drop</em> of sherry, so by the time Andromeda Tonks and baby Teddy arrived, he found himself enveloping them both in a rather tipsy hug.</p><p>"Oh! Harry! Well it <em>is</em> good to see you," she said, taken aback. Teddy bounced and giggled. He was already much bigger than he had been since Harry saw him last. And he looked even more like Remus Lupin about the eyes and chin. He could even walk, sort of.</p><p>They all congregated in the dining room and tucked into an enormous meal of slow-roasted goose, roast potatoes, parsnips, honey-glazed carrots, pigs in blankets, garlicky sprouts, mounds of stuffing, all smothered in a sea of gravy. It was heaven.</p><p>Then, it was time to open the presents. George, who had been quiet most of the day, teared up a little as he read Harry's card and saw the voucher. He punched him in the arm by way of reply. Little Teddy loved the bear and proceeded to chew its ear enthusiastically. The rest of his gifts were also well-received. Harry was relieved to see Mrs Tonks nodding appreciatively at the auto-biography of a famous Healer called Rosemary Crispin, which he'd agonised over in the shop, wondering if perhaps she already had it.</p><p>And for himself, he immediately shoved Molly and Arthur's present - a cream, gold and green Christmas jumper with his initials on it - over his head. Molly said it made his eyes stand out. He mostly got sweets, clothes and a few bits of kit for Severina, otherwise.</p><p>Somewhat nervously, he exchanged gifts with Ron last.</p><p>He handed the small package over to him without looking him in the eye. Ron, similarly, chucked a box in his direction. He caught it and tore the paper off. Inside was a lumpy set of grey woollen mittens.</p><p>Harry took them out and shoved them on. They were thick and warm. Still feeling the drink, he smiled lopsidedly and gave Ron a wave and a thumbs up with both hands.</p><p>"Thanks!" he said.</p><p>"Got mum to show me how to knit in the summer," Ron muttered back, his eyes darting to Harry's hands, to his face, to the floor. "Sorry, m'not very good."</p><p>"You're kidding - they're brilliant!"</p><p>Ron blushed. He turned his attention to ripping at the paper of his present. Reaching in, he pulled out its contents.</p><p>He looked confused.</p><p>"What uh - a necklace?"</p><p>Harry felt his cheeks go red.</p><p>"Err, sort of..." He explained the story behind it and watched as Ron's face turned from puzzled to extremely interested.</p><p>"Really? That's so cool!" he said.</p><p>He wrapped the cord around his neck and fiddled with the clasp at the back for a bit before it clicked into place. The braiding had shortened the cord quite a bit indeed, so rather than hang loose, it fitted more closely, with the wooden amulet sitting just at the base of his throat.</p><p>"It looks good," Harry said, half to himself. It did. Ron suited it. It didn't look feminine at all, with the thick braided sections. Rather it stood stark against his skin, and gave his already unusual look something of... an edge. Ron grinned, closed his eyes, and <em>accioed</em> Charlie's shortbread tin out of his hands without saying a word.</p><p>"Oi!" Charlie exclaimed.</p><p>Harry joined in as the rest of the family laughed. <em>His family.</em> As the rest of <em>his</em> family laughed, and ate mince pies, and told stories round the fire for the whole evening.</p><p>That night, he crawled into bed and fell asleep in a matter of minutes, a smile playing on his lips.</p><p>"Get a move on."</p><p>Harry looked round. He was stumbling over rubble, and behind him, George - no, <em>Fred</em> Weasley was ushering him ahead.</p><p>"Death Eaters to hex, Dark Lords to kill. Hurry up!" he was saying.</p><p>Harry tripped and nearly fell. Fred pulled him up by his robes and half dragged him into a corridor as spells flew past them, exploding the rocks where they'd been standing.</p><p>"Fuck, that was close, eh? Wonder if they wanna be friends?" Fred joked.</p><p>Harry opened his mouth, but then... then Draco Malfoy was there. Soot-stained, his blonde hair stuck to his forehead with blood and sweat. He raised his wand.</p><p>
  <em>"Avada Kedavra!"</em>
</p><p>And Fred fell. His eyes stared without seeing, the ghost of his last laugh still etched upon his face...</p><p>Harry woke with a stifled yelp. He groaned. What was that, six nights in a row? But <em>Godric</em> that one was bad.</p><p>He lay there in the dark. His heart was hammering and it didn't seem to want to stop. He felt a bit sick.</p><p>And he couldn't hear Ron's snoring.</p><p>
  <em>Fuck it.</em>
</p><p>He picked up his pillow and blindly stumbled over to Ron's side of the room.</p><p>"You awake?"</p><p>He heard Ron turn over.</p><p>"Yeah."</p><p>"Um." <em>Now what?</em></p><p>"Nightmare?"</p><p>Harry sighed, hearing his breath judder.</p><p>"Really bad," he said.</p><p>"Fuck."</p><p>"Yup."</p><p>He heard Ron shuffling again. In the dark he could just about see he had sat up against the headboard.</p><p>"Come on, then," he said, quietly.</p><p>
  <em>Thank. Fuck.</em>
</p><p>Harry tucked his pillow in beside Ron's and slid under the covers. The bed was much smaller than the ones they had at Hogwarts, so as he settled into a seating position he found his entire right side was flush with Ron's warm body. The bed was also significantly toastier than the air around them. He wriggled his toes, enjoying the sensation. There was a loose thread on top of the blanket, so he picked at it, waiting for... waiting for... something.</p><p>They sat for a while. Ron yawned.</p><p>"M'sorry," he said. "I- I know you've been havin' them. I've been a jerk. It's just..."</p><p>Harry couldn't help but notice, as the silence lengthened, that Ron had completely failed to explain himself. Then again, he could hardly blame him.</p><p>Ron shouldered him lightly.</p><p>"What was it about?" he asked, instead.</p><p>Harry wasn't sure if he should say. The image of Fred... the sight of his body, lying there, broken, empty - he knew that sight was burned in Ron's memory as much as it was his. But, selfishly, he didn't want to be alone with that image so fresh and raw.</p><p>"Fred," he whispered.</p><p>Ron's head thudded against the headboard.</p><p>Then, Harry felt the arm nearest to him move. Before he quite knew what was happening, Ron reached his hand towards him and, finding Harry's own, he laced their fingers together and gripped his knuckles so hard it almost hurt.</p><p>His voice cracked.</p><p>"Fred? You saw him...?"</p><p>"Die. Yeah."</p><p>Harry felt Ron's whole body shudder at those words.</p><p>"Bloody hell."</p><p>Neither of them said anything for a while. Harry could feel the waves of fear and horror and grief that they both normally kept at bay crash over them, soundlessly, in the dark. The loss was so big it was almost unimaginable. It was like they could live day to day and not see it or think of it, and then there it was, right there, so big it filled the sky. His head was swimming.</p><p>But Ron's white-knuckle grip on his hand kept him grounded as those feelings started to fade, just a little, and the tiredness set in again. His eyelids felt like two weights were dragging them down. He reflected that it was exhausting, grief.</p><p>"Wonder if Rookwood's one of the ones they caught," Ron said, suddenly.</p><p>Harry started.</p><p>"They would have told you guys, right?" he asked.</p><p>"I suppose, yeah."</p><p>Harry decided to tell him about the rest of his nightmare, though as he spoke he wondered if, perhaps, he shouldn't have.</p><p>"It uh. Didn't happen like it did in real life. In my dream, I mean. It wasn't an explosion. It wasn't Rookwood. it um..."</p><p>"What?" Ron asked. "Who was it then?"</p><p>"I- It was just a dream. But um, Malfoy. It was Draco Malfoy. With a killing curse."</p><p>Ron raised his fists - Harry's hand caught in the movement - and slammed them down on the covers on either side of his legs.</p><p>"He's SUCH an evil git. Fuck him. Seriously. I know, not real, yeah yeah - but, <em>fuck</em>, Harry, I hate him. I <em>hate</em> him so much it's like I can't breathe properly until he's not in the same room anymore. Him and all his Death Eater cronies."</p><p>Harry found himself a bit lost for words.</p><p>"And we've got a whole 'nother bloody term with him, Merlin! I thought the first one was bad, but seeing his stupid, slimy, evil git face trouncing about Hogwarts for another half a <em>year</em>? It's gonna drive me mental, Harry. It really is."</p><p><em>I'm pretty sure you said similar stuff before the start of this year. Nothing changed in the meantime? No?</em> Harry's inner monologue rambled unhelpfully.</p><p>"It was just a dream," he repeated.</p><p>"Yeah, well dream Malfoy can die a painful death." Ron poked his head with his free hand. "Tell your dumb brain to start imagining <em>that</em>."</p><p>Harry laughed.</p><p>"I will," he promised. "And real Malfoy? What's his fate?"</p><p>"Same thing?"</p><p>"Ron!"</p><p>"Fine. But I have an idea and he's not going to like it, I tell you. He deserves it after- um, after. Being such a dick all this time."</p><p>
  <em>Uh-oh. I should never have encouraged the pranks. Poor Malfoy.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Wait.</em>
</p><p>'<em>Poor Malfoy'?!</em></p><p>He really must be tired. His brain was clearly misfiring. Thinking about it, he found himself yawning so hard his jaw clicked.</p><p>"Hey, you made me" - Ron yawned, too - "you made me yawn," he finished, redundantly.</p><p>Feeling like he'd probably overstayed his welcome, Harry went to get up to go back to his bed, but found his hand still captured in Ron's grasp. He turned to face him, but it was too dark to make out his expression, so he made a questioning noise in his throat.</p><p>"Just go to sleep," Ron said, not letting go.</p><p>"Oh. Yeah. If that's... yeah."</p><p>Harry scooted down. He pulled the pillow under his head and tried to get comfortable on his back, but the bed was too small for both of them to lie shoulder-to-shoulder and he found he was a bit too close to the edge. OK, he was kind of half falling off.</p><p>Ron let go of his hand, then. Harry clenched and unclenched his fist to regain feeling in his fingers. His hand was a bit sweaty so he wiped it against the covers. Ron patted his shoulder.</p><p>"Roll over," he grunted.</p><p>He proceeded to rotate his whole body to face towards him. Harry found himself doing the same, so they were both facing in the same direction, with Ron's chest against his back, and his knees tucked into the back of Harry's legs, and his arm wrapped around him.</p><p>Ron's hand found his in the dark. To Harry's surprise, once again, he pushed his fingertips through the gaps between his fingers, interlocking them, though less tightly this time, and with the palm resting against the back of his hand. His calloused fingertips brushed the pad at the base of Harry's fingers.</p><p>"G'night, Harry," he said, softly. His breath tickled the back of Harry's neck.</p><p>"Night... Ron," Harry replied.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p> Fun fact, 1998 and 2020 are an almost exact match for dates-to-days, except 2020 was a leap year (so they match from March) and 1999 and 2021 are an exact match. So Christmas time for these loveable idiots is the same as our Christmas. Well if you're reading this chapter around the day of publication. Which you may not be. Merry Christmas anyway! Did someone mention wine...</p><p> </p><p>Oh, you were expecting kiss number three?</p><p> </p><p>Soooo sorry.</p><p> </p><p>There's always next year ;P</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Second Term</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The days before New Years were entirely more pleasant than those that had preceded the Christmas festivities. Ron's foul mood had lifted, though Harry still occasionally caught him staring off into the distance with a frown plastered across his face, and there was so much leftover food and snacks and drink that the entire time passed in a blur of comfort and overindulgence.</p><p>On New Years eve itself, feeling partied out, Harry and the Weasleys spent most of the evening playing board games and eating a buffet of cold cuts, savoury pastries and cheeses. So - essentially - the same way they'd spent every night. Except with more wine.</p><p>As the evening drew in, they all put on their coats, hats and gloves - Harry proudly wore the lumpy grey mittens that Ron had knitted - and headed into the garden. In past years, the twins had hosted a spectacular firework display, but this year George took a back seat and Charlie Weasley entertained them by using his wand to draw trails of multi-coloured light in a series of scenes depicting a story from the <em>Tales of the Beedle and the Bard.</em> Percy, who had been roped in to help, read out the narrative in a crisp voice, pointing a <em>lumos</em>-ignited wand at the book in his hand. Their audience applauded enthusiastically once they had finished. Then they all crowded into the kitchen to toast with glasses of thick, amber mead that was like drinking smoked honey straight out of the jar. The next day everyone spent most of it nursing their headaches and grumbling about the fact that they'd run out of hangover potion - and the apothecary was closed until the second of January.</p><p>On Saturday, Ron had cheerfully volunteered to help George re-open the shop at the weekend - to kick off the January sales he was planning to run extended opening hours both days - so Harry decided to tag along. George offered to host them at his flat above the shop for the night, which was normally what Ron did when he went to work there.</p><p>"Though I've only got the one bed 'cause normally it's just Ronikins. OK so it's a mattress. On the floor. In the spare room. But it's pretty big, like. Proper double. Sorry I uh. I got rid of Fred's bed and, I mean, who'd have slept in it anyway..." George said to Harry, apologetically.</p><p>Harry (and Ron) wasted no time in reassuring him that this arrangement was absolutely fine. Not that they mentioned it but, after all, they'd been sleeping in the same bed for months. <em>It'll be nice to have some more room,</em> Harry thought. Ron's bed was very small and more than once one of them had nearly fallen out. And more than once he had woken to err... a prodding sensation in his back. That neither one of them spoke about, but the mutual awareness of such a fact often left a... stiff... atmosphere that lingered until breakfast.</p><p>So, they Apparated to Diagon Alley early Saturday morning. Harry helped Ron stick '50 PERCENT OFF FAKE POOP, VOMIT AND OTHER EXCREMENT!' signs on the window and hang 'FOR SALE' banners all around the store. George had even given him his own magenta robe to wear for the occasion. It was big enough that he had to roll up the sleeves.</p><p>The advertisements did their job. By the time Harry had shooed the self-cleaning bucket and mop into the corner there were already people clamouring at the windows, staring in at the teetering display of goods.</p><p>George stood on the spiral stair and clapped his hands together.</p><p>"Ready boys?" he asked, grinning. He puffed out his chest. "Let in our adoring public, Ronald!"</p><p>Ron rolled his eyes at Harry, making him laugh.</p><p>A second later, he frowned.</p><p>"Two minutes, George. Just realised. Boy Who Lived and all that, hang on..." He looked around him. "Aha! Here put this on."</p><p>He tore off a label and handed Harry a fake black beard.</p><p>"Oi, that's merchandise!" George called over.</p><p>"I'll pay for it!" Harry called back as he stuck the beard onto his face. It adhered easily enough. On a whim he pulled his glasses further down his nose, like Dumbledore used to wear them.</p><p>"How do I look?" He turned to Ron.</p><p>"Err... dignified?"</p><p>"Like someone who breathes too loudly in libraries, mate," George said. "Hurry up, people are leaving!"</p><p>Harry rolled his eyes at Ron, matching his earlier gesture.</p><p>"Right. Let's do this," Ron said, grinning. He marched to the glass doors and unlocked them. Sounds rushed in.</p><p>They barely took a break all day. It seemed like every witch and wizard in London was determined to buy something. George shouted himself hoarse, yelling things like: "Bargain - singing mice, four for the price of three!" and "Seventy percent off a pair of extendable ears if you buy any board game!" and "If you don't stop cutting in line I will personally hex your arse into next week!"</p><p>Harry was on till and bagging duty - a name badge with 'Harold Potts' on his lapel and the beard seemed to have the desired effect of anonymity - while Ron ran around the shop helping people find things and replenishing stock from the back. He was in his element, chatting, joking, recommending this item or that, demonstrating products to crowds of wide-eyed kids, and full of a kind of boundless energy that was infectious.</p><p>The whole day was frantic, stressful - fun. By the time eight o'clock rolled in and George finally shut the doors, the shop looked like a bomb had gone off and half the shelves were empty.</p><p>With Christmas jingles playing in the background, Ron and Harry set about realigning things (Harry kept finding strange items in odd corners, as if someone had changed their mind mid-shop) and putting what remaining stock they had out onto the floor. George, meanwhile, spiritedly counted sickles, knuts and galleons, sliding them expertly into tubes. Eventually, he scooped a handful into a bag and chucked it at Ron.</p><p>"Christmas bonus. You've earned it."</p><p>Ron whooped.</p><p>"Cheers, George!" he said, looking impressed at the weight of the bag.</p><p>They ate leftovers that Molly had packed for them, changed into pyjamas and stumbled into bed before it was gone half nine, exhausted, with another whole day ahead of them. Harry dreamed of dancing in sparkling gold air and soaring wings at dawn.</p><p>He cracked one begrudging eye open to the sound of a punctuated cough. George stood above him. He was holding two cups of tea. Pink light filtered through the curtain behind him.</p><p>"Oh, mornin'," Harry mumbled, yawning. It was so warm under the covers that the thought of getting up was vaguely horrifying.</p><p>George raised an eyebrow.</p><p>"You two seem... cosy?" He rattled the saucers. "Getting up then?"</p><p>His head still foggy, Harry extracted himself from Ron's arm and sat up against the wall where the mattress met the skirting. He patted the carpet for his glasses and stuck them on his nose.</p><p>
  <em>Why is George looking at me like that?</em>
</p><p>Harry felt Ron sleepily roll into his hip and bury his face into Harry side. His arm circled up and over his lap. And George was still staring...</p><p>Harry suddenly found he was very awake indeed. He shook Ron's shoulder, hard.</p><p>"Ron!" he prompted, loudly.</p><p>"Wassup?" Ron answered.</p><p>"George has tea."</p><p>"George isn't at Hogwarts anymore, Harry. Jus' nother nightmare. Go back to sleep."</p><p>Harry shook him again.</p><p>"Get up!"</p><p>Ron blinked and finally realised the two pertinent facts of the scenario: he was half wrapped around Harry legs. And his brother was in the room. He sat up swiftly, looking about as red as Harry felt. He situated himself all the way over on the other side of the double bed, leaving as wide a space between them as possible.</p><p>"Was asleep," he said.</p><p>Harry mentally slapped himself on the forehead. <em>Oh well done, Ron, that explains everything.</em></p><p>George sighed.</p><p>"Adorable as you are, if you're quite done snuggling, here's your tea."</p><p>He handed them a saucer each and Harry tried not to let his hand shake as he automatically took a sip. George, playing the part of an apathetic waiter, 'took their breakfast orders' and left. Neither Harry nor Ron spoke as they drank their tea and got ready. Harry did notice, though, that the grey cloud that had been hovering over Ron's head before Christmas was descending once more, so by the time they made their way to the shop, his frown had set like concrete.</p><p>They helped George throughout the day, which was just barely less of a rush than Saturday had been, then headed back to the Burrow to pack. Ron got quieter and quieter. Harry also found himself lost in thought. It had been easier, while they were away, to ignore certain events from the last few days of term, but with the prospect of returning to Hogwarts in the morning looming he couldn't quite shake the fact that neither of them would be able to avoid a certain blonde ex-Slytherin. At least, so far they'd both been woefully unable to do so.</p><p>
  <em>Shared House, shared classes... shared kisses.</em>
</p><p>He chased the goblin out of his brain with a stick.</p><p>But there was no escaping it. Thankfully, there <em>was</em> the joyful prospect of seeing Hermione again. She met them at the platform with an enormous hug each. She was sporting a tan and her frizzy hair was highlighted from the sun, which was strange to see mid-winter. She was also talking at a million miles a minutes, regaling them with all sorts of stories of seeing her parents and the wizarding world 'down under'.</p><p>"Mum and dad were spitting mad, of course," she said as they clambered into a compartment and closed the door. "Professor Hadley had to pretend we were drains inspectors to get in the house, and then it took hours for them to fully recover from the <em>Memento</em> charm - to restore their memories - and well, dad cried, of course. Mum was livid. She gave me an earful. But at least it worked! Though they were quite horrified all over again once they remembered they're dentists and they'd spent the last year running a sweet shop of all things... And after that, we just got to have a proper Christmas together and <em>oh</em> it was absolutely <em>wonderful.</em> Except for the sand. Beaches and sunshine in December is a bit disconcerting, I find. Lovely though."</p><p>"Sounds bloody weird to me," Ron muttered.</p><p>"Yes well, it's just how they do things there. And the British Embassy at their Ministry was like nothing I'd ever <em>seen</em> before. They have these creatures that are sort of like kangaroos, except giant, you know? Twelve feet tall, at least. Oh, and Ron we even went to see the <em>Thundelarra Thunderers</em> play, though it wasn't really my sort of thing professor Hadley insisted on taking us. I think for herself mostly, she seemed quite excited... Even I have to admit they were quite impressive. Much better than when we saw the <em>Chudley Cannons</em> last summer-"</p><p>"Hey!"</p><p>At least <em>this</em> was back to normal, Harry mused, watching them bicker. It was as if all the heartbreak and awkwardness had washed away and he had his best friends back. OK, so they had another term to get through, and exams, and some... strange... stuff to figure out. At least he could do it all in good company.</p><p>Harry spent most of the first week back wondering if he'd even learned half the stuff his teachers were talking about. Could he have <em>possibly</em> forgotten whole swathes of the curriculum? In Potions he found himself reading over notes that were written in his own handwriting like they'd been written by a stranger. Professor Sprout kicked off the first Herbology lesson with a gruelling quiz on edible and poisonous roots. Dr Khatri, embarrassingly, used the fact he had a magical conduit amulet to make him a demonstrate its use for an entire hour. On the spot, his poor performance prompted her to question if - perhaps - he'd bought a dupe. He saw Malfoy's smirk at her comment and resisted the urge to throw a surreptitious hex in his direction. Especially when, catching his eye, Malfoy actually winked at him from across the room. In the <em>middle</em> of <em>Transfigurations</em>. On a <em>Wednesday</em>. <em>Malfoy</em>.</p><p>Later, Harry had the Marauder's Map open beside him at dinner when Ron joined him on one side, with Hermione on the other. He was idly scooping parsnip soup into his mouth as he tracked Malfoy through the corridors.</p><p>Ron leaned over his shoulder.</p><p>"What's he up to?" he asked, nonchalantly.</p><p>
  <em>Smooth, Ron. Real smooth.</em>
</p><p>"Oh. Uh. Looks like he's heading to the Astronomy staircase again."</p><p>"Really? He's there all the time. What the hell is so interesting about a cordoned off pile of rubble?"</p><p>"Who are you talking about?" Hermione asked as she grabbed a bread roll.</p><p>"Malfoy," Harry and Ron chorused.</p><p>"Why on earth-? You know what? I don't want to know."</p><p>Ron waved at the inky dot on the map with his butter knife. "He's definitely up to something. Like, remember what he was like in sixth year? All secretive and sneaky and acting super weird? It's like... a pattern. Same old Malfoy, same old evil git shit."</p><p>"Do you think?" Hermione asked. "I mean, it could be something to do with Zabini? I suspect Malfoy is helping her, perhaps, with her transformation? It would make sense, given he's in Tang's Alchemy class and how close they are."</p><p>Harry had to applaud her for putting those dots together. Trust Hermione to figure it out. Still, Malfoy's explanation on the night of the Christmas ball hadn't covered everything. Why was he traipsing all over the castle? And how had he burned his hand?</p><p>"Did you say Zabini?" Neville piped up from the opposite side of the table. He slid his bowl closer to them.</p><p>"I saw. Um. I saw her arriving on the train. It's only been two weeks but it's amazing how much she's changed, don't you think?" he asked.</p><p>Ron shrugged. "Haven't seen 'er," he said through a mouthful of food.</p><p>Harry was still staring at the dot as it lingered on the parchment.</p><p>"Even if Malfoy's helping her, that doesn't account for why he's lurking around the Astronomy tower though, does it? Do you think it's got anything to do with... with that night? The night Dumbledore died?" he said.</p><p>Hermione frowned at him. "Really? Do you think? I would have thought that's the last place he'd want to be, honestly. It <em>is</em> a bit odd. Maybe we should try speaking to McGonagall."</p><p>"Harry tried that," Ron said.</p><p>"Oh." She shrugged. "Then I would imagine it's all in hand, whatever it is. You two have really got to find something else to obsess over. I know what I said in the summer, but if he wanted to do something, don't you think he would have done it by now?"</p><p>Ron leaned his elbow on the table and pointed at her. "Exactly. He's biding his time. Setting the trap."</p><p>"What trap? For you? Harry? Someone else?"</p><p>
  <em>Malfoy, in the Owlery, with a candlestick...</em>
</p><p>"All I know is it's ruddy suspicious that's he's skulking about the castle instead of eating dinner here."</p><p>"Yes, well, we all miss Malfoy very much," she shot back at Ron.</p><p>Ron spluttered.</p><p>"I don't!"</p><p>Feeling this conversation was getting into dangerous territory, Harry turned to Neville and started loudly complaining about the homework Tang had dolled out at the start of the week. To be fair, it was an egregious amount. This did the job.</p><p>By the time Friday afternoon rolled around, Harry was wishing for the holidays again. He fully expected the whole weekend to be taken up with studying, which was a thoroughly depressing prospect. Ron and Hermione had both been helping him brush up on his ingredients, herbs and theories every evening, though, so between the three of them he was starting to feel like he had a handle on things again.</p><p>The last class of the week was Care of Magical Creatures. Hagrid took them to a paddock near the edge of the Forbidden Forest. He clapped his hands together.</p><p>"Firs' I wanna say, not everyone will be able to fully participate in this lesson, but I think - sadly - the majori'y of you will have some experience with these fellas now, and it'd be worth takin' a bit o' time to explain them proper. Now let me just..."</p><p>He wandered off and, as Harry had suspected, brought a pair of Thestrals around the corner. He was holding their reins as they delicately walked over the frozen soil. Their white eyes glittered like snow.</p><p>"Not again," Ron whispered as he gripped Harry's elbow and sidled behind him.</p><p>"Hands up if you lot can see these guys."</p><p>The whole class - such as it was - put their hands up, which caused Hagrid to tear up and have to hand Harry the reins as he searched in his great overcoat for a handkerchief. Harry, trying not to show fear, patted the neck of one of the Thestrals as it stomped impatiently.</p><p>"There, there..."</p><p>Up close, he could see every ribcage, every jutting bone beneath the skin. It was disconcerting to say the least. Like nothing but the barest sinews were holding the creature together. He scanned the length of the one nearest him as Hagrid gathered himself and started to explain things like their eating and mating habits. There. Right by the back leg, he noticed a difference in skin tone. He loosened his grip on the reins and edged closer. It was a stain, dark. No - a gash, about three inches across. It was weeping, but he wasn't sure if it was the Thestral's blood, or if it was a sign of infection. The stuff oozing out was purple.</p><p>"Hagrid?" he called.</p><p>"-an' that's why you want to keep a bucket of peat moss nearby at all times. Harry? What is it?"</p><p>"I think this one's injured."</p><p>The afternoon light was already quite dim, so Harry cast <em>lumos</em> and held his wand closer to the Thestral's side. It edged away at the light.</p><p>Hagrid bent and squinted.</p><p>"Oh! Oh poor thing, how'd tha' happen, Betsy?"</p><p>
  <em>Betsy the Thestral. Of course, what else would it be called?</em>
</p><p>"I can heal, err... Betsy. If you like?" Harry offered.</p><p>"Would yer? I don' like to think of 'er in pain..."</p><p>"Course!"</p><p>Hagrid took the Thestral's reins and stood back. Harry peered closer still, and, feeling rather pleased with himself, successfully cast a few diagnostic spells. No infection. Good. He gently cleaned and disinfected the wound, then began to chant the same healing spell he had used on Malfoy's hand. The edges of the gash knitted together. The Thestral shifted, but otherwise seemed happy to let him work. Once the cut was no longer visible he straightened to find Ron had actually come closer to the creature, though his face was clearly petrified and his eyes kept darting towards the Thestral's impassive face.</p><p>"That was really cool, Harry," he said, laying a warm hand on his shoulder as he peered forward to look at the tiny silvery scar where the wound had been.</p><p>"Thanks. It's... it's nothing."</p><p>Ron slapped his back and gave his shoulder a squeeze. "It's not nothing. You're gonna be an awesome Healer, right? I know it."</p><p>Harry grinned up at him. At the cord around his neck, at the muscles in his throat, at the constellations of freckles as they trailed up towards blue eyes that were staring right into his own - proud, scared, curious - under a fur-lined hat. And he remembered lips crashing against Malfoy's. And he felt the same spark that he'd felt that day flare in his sternum. And Harry suddenly realised that he might have more problems than brain goblins to deal with this term.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Hate</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>TW: anti-trans dickhead (but they get what's coming to 'em).</p><p>Sorry, last chapter was written in a haze of mince pies and was a bit fillery. This one's better! (I think)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Harry spent the next few days self-analysing his staring habits and trying not to panic. It was perfectly normal to notice other men. Take... uhhh... He looked at his friends around the Den.</p><p>Right. Perfectly normal to be reminded of Dean Thomas' naked body and throbbing erection every time he saw the guy - how could he not, when that kind of image had been emblazoned on his brain against his will. Perfectly normal to notice that Neville Longbottom was, despite being hunched, shy, awkward and well, <em>Neville</em>, now actually kind of hot. Like, disconcertingly hot. Objectively. Not just in Harry opinion. He was pretty sure other people thought the same. He'd noticed at least one of the ex-Ravenclaw girls giggling over him once. And he'd just watched Zabini's eyes follow him as he chased his escaped toad across the carpet. So, the Neville thing, that didn't prove anything.</p><p>And he definitely didn't fancy Seamus, he thought with some certainty, looking over at Finnigan and Ursula Spence's older sister, who were latched onto one another in the book nook.</p><p>Nope.</p><p>And yes. OK. So maybe he and Ron were getting kind of... close. Some might say too close. But it was just like... best friend stuff. Yeah. Best friends. Spending all their time together was hardly unusual for them. And talking, constantly. Leaning against one another. Brushing hands over arms to get each other's attention. Pats on the back. Hugs. Nudges. What was a casual touch between mates? Though they had been doing it a lot lately... And Ron sneaking into his bed at night and pulling his body into his chest... and waking up with their legs all intertwined and sweaty... and despite the fact that they were no longer sharing Ron's small bed back at the Burrow and had every opportunity to lie side-by-side, not touching like they had before, somehow, <em>somehow,</em> they would easily slide into one another's arms in the dead of night, when it was hard to think or care too much about if that was a strange thing to do, and it was ruddy freezing in the dorm <em>anyway</em>, and even...</p><p>Yes, well even if they woke up holding hands, that didn't <em>mean</em> anything.</p><p>Did it?</p><p>Then there was Malfoy to consider. The events of last term seemed like they couldn't possibly be real right up until he would catch sight of the blonde, flouncing - OK, walking - around as if... as if he hadn't kissed Harry with those hot and cold kisses at the ball. As if he and Ron hadn't snogged themselves silly in a <em>public</em> fucking <em>corridor</em>. It was all sort of dream-like. Unbelievable. Insane. But...</p><p><em>Real</em>.</p><p>Of course, Ron was putting on an Oscar-winning performance as 'Man Who Has Never Snogged Worst Enemy', and Harry was in no hurry to make him break character. What the hell could either of them say? 'I was Imperiused'? 'I went temporarily mad with horniness'? 'There was just something about those damned enticing grey eyes'?</p><p><em>At least I had an excuse,</em> Harry thought. <em>Alcohol. The scapegoat for all sins.</em></p><p>Which was a thought that brought little comfort, given the fact that, as he looked around the teal and grey Den, he spotted Malfoy himself coming down the stairs. And those eyes were just as piercing as ever. And that sleek blonde hair, shoulder length, tied with a black ribbon. And those cheekbones.</p><p>Was it normal to notice another guy's... cheekbones?</p><p>In fact the other ex-Slytherins were all coming down the stairs as well. Parkinson and Greengrass were carrying bottles of rum and something clear and potent-looking that Harry didn't recognise.</p><p>Theodore Nott went over to the portrait and opened it to invite a group of three Slytherins in: a strawberry blonde girl with a long, sharp face, a stout boy that reminded Harry of Goyle, and a wiry boy with a buzzcut. Harry recognised them as Nott's Quidditch team. They all joined Zabini by the fireplace and started pouring drinks into glasses.</p><p>"What the hell's going on?" Ron asked, sitting in the chair beside him and nudging him with his elbow. Harry put the textbook he'd been pretending to read facedown on the table.</p><p>"Nott's team won the Friendly at the weekend, right? Guess they're here to celebrate," Harry suggested.</p><p>Ron's brow furrowed. "In our House? Slytherins? Surely that can't be allowed."</p><p>"Seamus has that Spence girl here. And Luna and Ginny have both visited loads of times."</p><p>"Yeah. Well... it's still not right."</p><p>Harry side-eyed him, trying not to be too obvious. Ron was staring at the group intensely. No. He was staring at one person. One person who was knocking back a shot of clear liquid, and whose high, delicate cheekbones were already flushed with alcohol. Who was smiling and patting Nott on the back.</p><p>Just then Neville blocked both their lines of sight by slumping into the chair in front of them. He had Trevor in both hands and was breathing heavily.</p><p>"Hey, Ron. Hey, Harry. Stupid toad nearly went in the vent."</p><p>Ron craned his neck to peer round him.</p><p>"What's he doing?" Neville asked Harry.</p><p>"Looking at Mal- Um. Looking at them. Over there. Slytherins." Harry pointed.</p><p>Neville, unsubtly, shuffled around in his seat. He turned back. Shrugged.</p><p>"Oh hey, is that the book Tang told us to read for Friday? I haven't even started mine yet. I sure hope it explains half of what she was on about yesterday cause I haven't got a clue what she meant about the relationship between cauldron types and reactive agents."</p><p>Harry did his best to focus on Neville's face. Neville's weirdly handsome, befuddled looking face.</p><p>"Err. Yeah. Actually, I'm not sure. Maybe I haven't got to that bit yet."</p><p>Neville talked about Potions for another few minutes, as, behind him, the group by the fire got louder and louder. Ron was openly glowering at them.</p><p>"...then when you hit him with the bludger just as he'd finally got the quaffle..."</p><p>"Yeah, and spun him round like a top and he puked all over his robes and had to go see Pomfrey..."</p><p>"Fucking brilliant match. If only bloody McGonagall would let us play proper Quidditch again."</p><p>"And I can't believe they still won't let you play, Draco..."</p><p>"It's hardly fair you have to go to every single one of those stupid classes..."</p><p>Harry tuned back into whatever Neville was saying right at the end of a longish spiel. He nodded.</p><p>"Uhuh, sure, sure..."</p><p>Neville, seemingly catching on that he would have been better off speaking to a brick wall, sighed and moved his chair round to the side of the table so he could get a better view as well.</p><p>Harry strained to hear. <em>What were they saying about Malfoy?</em></p><p>But the topic had moved on. The thin boy with short hair was snootily declaring that the décor was hideous and that he most certainly wasn't looking forward to moving into the Den next year. Blair Zabini raised an eyebrow and said something. Harry couldn't tell what but it seemed to be in agreement. However, the boy then gave her such a venomous look of disgust that her half smirk vanished from her face. She folded her arms.</p><p>"... Of course, it's ironic you've got an opinion, guess ugly recognises ugly, right?" The boy's voiced drifted across the room.</p><p>Only Seamus and his date didn't seem to notice the change in atmosphere. Suddenly, everything became quieter.</p><p>"<em>What</em> did you say?" Malfoy asked, smile gone, icicles dripping from every word.</p><p>"What?" the boy said. "Look at him, it's hardly subtle is it? Adams apple bouncing up and down - and the hands. What is it they say about big feet? Sorry but if you're a girl, I'm a Hufflepuff. That's just how it is."</p><p>Harry felt Neville stiffen.</p><p>"Guess I shouldn't be surprised. We're losing our values, our Purebloods, now our men think they're women and our women are sleeping with half-bloods, isn't that right, Pans? Heard you were caught in the dungeons making out with a Mudblood Ravenclaw."</p><p>"I think you should leave," Zabini said, levelly.</p><p>"What you gonna do? Punch me? Not very lady-like, is it? Come on, everyone knows McGonagall would have you all out of here in a second the minute you step a toe out of line. Don't get your moustache in a twist. I'm only telling the truth. Draco's a blood traitor. Parkinson's a whore. And you're a goddamn man."</p><p>"Shut your mouth!" Malfoy yelled, standing and drawing his wand.</p><p>"Take Trevor, please," Neville said softly.</p><p>Harry found his hands were full of rubbery, wriggling toad.</p><p>And to the amazement of all present, Neville Longbottom marched up to the short-haired boy and knocked him out cold with one swing.</p><p>He stood over him, flapping his hand. The two other Slytherins boggled at him.</p><p>"If ANYONE has ANYTHING to say about <em>Blair</em> Zabini," he said, sounding shaken, but firm, "they can go through me, alright?"</p><p>"You realise I was about to hex his balls clean off?" Zabini said dryly. "Don't need a knight in shining armour just because I'm a girl. Though... I do appreciate the gesture."</p><p>Neville let out a breath.</p><p>"Not a knight. Just... just don't like when people treat other people wrong. And you're NOT ugly, by the way."</p><p>"Well. Thank you."</p><p>Malfoy laughed. He stepped over the boy's unconscious body, put his wand into his sleeve and held out his hand.</p><p>Neville gawked at him. Harry didn't look round but he was pretty sure he could hear Ron's jaw hit the tabletop. Malfoy waited. And waited.</p><p>Eventually, Neville gave him a serious appraisal, his eyes scanning the blonde's face for signs of insincerity, or possibly madness, it was hard to tell. He reached out.</p><p>Neville Longbottom was shaking Draco Malfoy's hand.</p><p>It only lasted a few seconds, but that didn't matter. With that one moment Harry could feel the attitudes in the room shift just a tiny bit... like... like the last barriers were crumbling away, and for the very first time, as the two terrified Slytherins carried their friend out of the Den, there was a sense of solidarity. Of one House.</p><p><em>Not</em> for the first time, Harry suspected that Neville would have made a damn fine Boy Who Lived.</p><p>The rest of the evening was... odd. Zabini had moved up on the sofa and offered Neville a drink. So he was over by the fire, surrounded by a group of amicably chatting ex-Slytherins. Even Malfoy seemed interested in whatever he was saying. And Harry and Ron were still at the table, Harry holding Trevor and Ron only just about holding on to his temper.</p><p>"I don't like it, Harry," he said, for the fifth or possibly sixth time. "It's got to be some sort of weird trick or something. Get in good with the other students. What did Lucius Malfoy used to say? 'Prudent' to be friends with, like, us, or something?"</p><p>
  <em>And I used to be the 'paranoid' one...</em>
</p><p>Around them, other eighth years were starting to mill closer, both for the gossip and for the chance at a free drink. And the ex-Slytherins were tense, sure. But willing. Even Seamus was tempted over by the mysterious clear liquid, after he'd seen a few people coughing violently once they'd taken a swig. There was... mingling. Theodore Nott and Terry Boot were arguing, sure, but they were arguing about Quidditch strategies, and it didn't look like either of them were going to punch the other anytime soon, either.</p><p>"I don't like it one bit," Ron brooded, sinking into his chair.</p><p>On Saturday, Ron left for his Animagus class with a suspiciously heavy looking bag and a determined expression. If Harry hadn't been groggy with sleep, he might have thought to stop him. But he didn't. And, hours later, when Ron came crashing into the dorm wearing a grey robe, holding a wand that wasn't his, and sporting a horrified expression, Harry found he wasn't surprised that <em>something</em> had happened.</p><p>But he also wasn't prepared for exactly <em>what</em> that something was.</p><p>"Harry, I've fucked up. Where's the map? The map, Harry. I need it!" Rob babbled.</p><p>He sprinted over to Harry's bedside table and started rifling through the contents. Leaving the drawer open he dove under Harry's bed and dragged the trunk half out before Harry could blurt out that it wasn't in there.</p><p>"Where then?! Come on!"</p><p>Harry pulled it out from his desk drawer and handed it over.</p><p>"What's happened, Ron? What have you done?"</p><p>Ron gulped. "Err. It's bad. I solemnly swear I am up to no good."</p><p>He stared at the map as the lines of ink slowly began to manifest.</p><p>"How bad?"</p><p>"Come on, come on, where is he?"</p><p>"Ron!"</p><p>Ron looked up for a second. His face was drained of colour.</p><p>"Harry. Don't freak out. I can explain."</p><p>"Right...."</p><p>Returning to his frantic scanning of the map, Ron continued. "So, George invented this hat and it only works for about a minute and Lee gave me the old prototype, but err. Fuck it. Don't hex me. I'll show you."</p><p>Ron pulled a floppy pointed thing that reminded Harry of the Sorting Hat out of his pocket and jammed it over his head.</p><p>"L-Lord Voldemort," he stuttered.</p><p>
  <em>What?</em>
</p><p>But suddenly Ron wasn't standing there anymore. Suddenly Harry's heart was hammering near breaking point in his chest. And his wand was in his hand before he could tell himself that...</p><p>That Ron Weasley had turned into the Dark Lord himself.</p><p>Voldemort's long clawed hand reached up...</p><p>And then it was Ron again, holding the hat in one hand and looking a bit sick.</p><p>Harry lowered his wand.</p><p>"What. The. Fuck. Ron?" he asked, furious.</p><p>"I know."</p><p>"Fucking Voldemort. You have a hat that can turn you into- Why the fuck would you-? What?!"</p><p>"It can turn you into anyone, but, like, only for a really short time. It's bad. Real bad, Harry."</p><p>Harry was busy trying to tamp his boiling rage down to simmer. He pressed his fingers into his forehead.</p><p>"Who saw you? Merlin, was it a <em>kid?"</em></p><p>"No! I was careful. I followed him to a deserted corridor, there was no-one..."</p><p>"Followed?"</p><p>Ron's eyes were scanning the map frantically. "Malfoy. Fuck, Harry. His face. You should have seen his face. I- I think I broke him."</p><p>"Shit."</p><p>"Where the FUCK did he run off to?" Ron whipped the map around, bringing it close to his sweating face.</p><p>
  <em>"Why?"</em>
</p><p>"Cause I was angry, OK?! And... I can't explain, but I have... reasons. But not good ones, I get that, not when... Merlin. He wasn't just scared, Harry. He looked like he was going to die. He looked..."</p><p>Harry noticed, then, that the wand in Ron's hand was the same one he'd held only last year. One he'd won in a duel.</p><p>"That's Malfoy's."</p><p>Ron's fist was shaking. "Yeah. It is. I cast <em>Expelliarmus</em> and he dropped it and ran."</p><p>"Ron..."</p><p>"I know. I'm - <em>FUCK</em> - I'm going to get fucking expelled for this."</p><p>Harry hadn't thought about <em>that</em>.</p><p>
  <em>Shit, shit, shit...</em>
</p><p>"We just need to find him. What corridor were you in?"</p><p>"It was on the sixth floor, the one-"</p><p>"Sixth floor?"</p><p>Harry knew, then, where Malfoy was. He scrambled round to rip the map from Ron's hands.</p><p>"Yeah, he's in the boys' bathroom. Come on!"</p><p>They both ran out of the Den, past the battlefield scene and up the stairs. A group of first years scattered like pigeons as they nearly ran over them.</p><p>"This is the stupidest thing you've done, mate. Seriously."</p><p>"Yes," was all Ron said, his eyes landing on the door to the boys' bathroom. He shoved it open. And there was Malfoy. Or what looked like Malfoy. Except he was glassy-eyed, curled under a sink, with his feet tucked under him and his arms wrapped around his legs. At the sound of them entering, he looked up, but only enough to see the bottom of Ron's grey robe, which was enough to elicit a heart-wrenching howl from between his lips.</p><p>"Malfoy! Fuck."</p><p>Ron looked at Harry helplessly.</p><p>Malfoy screamed again, a keening, animal sound. He rocked, his head banging repeatedly against the pipe behind him, tears streaming down his contorted face.</p><p>Harry went to take a step forward but Ron put his arm out.</p><p>"I- This is. I did this. Hang on, if we both go it'll crowd him or. Something. Shit. It's my fault, let me just..."</p><p>Ron took a couple of tentative steps forward. He dropped to his knees and shuffled the rest of the way until he was kneeling in front of Malfoy, who had quietened to a whimper and seemed to be trying to escape through the wall. His fingernails caught on the grouting, so he was smearing blood everywhere as he clawed desperately at the tiles. He was breathing in short, sharp bursts.</p><p>Ron looked at Malfoy's wand in his hand, and quickly stuffed it in his pocket. Harry understood his thinking: best not give a weapon to someone who thinks they're being attacked. He reached out to touch him, then thought better of that, too.</p><p>"Malfoy?" he tried again, softer.</p><p>Malfoy didn't seem to be there though. Instead, there was a wild, unseeing creature. One that was locked in, terrified.</p><p>"Draco?" Ron tried, the name strange in his voice. "Draco, um. Come back. I'm sorry. It wasn't real. None of it was real. It was a sick, sick joke. Please."</p><p>Harry wanted so badly to go over. The sight of Malfoy as scared as this would, perhaps - though he doubted it - have given him pleasure, once. Probably not the sight of him so destroyed by fear, though. He literally wouldn't wish that on his worst enemy.</p><p>But Ron was right, if he went closer it would have boxed him in. No escape routes. <em>What does a cornered animal do?</em></p><p>"I'm such a fucking idiot, Malfoy. Draco. Seriously. Have me expelled. Punch me. Fuck, anything. You can't just..."</p><p>Malfoy closed his eyes and rocked back and forth again. On the other side of the room, a mirror cracked.</p><p>
  <em>Uh-oh.</em>
</p><p>"I'm sorry. I'm so, so fucking sorry. I'm a total arse, Malfoy. Fuck!" Ron swore as two more mirrors shattered on either side of them.</p><p>"Ron..." Harry said, warning bells ringing in his ears.</p><p>"I know, Harry. I don't know what to fucking do. Malfoy. Come on. Can you hear me? It's Ron Weasley. Don't you wanna like hit me? Something? The Weasel. You know me. Come on, Draco, snap out of it."</p><p>Malfoy was mumbling nonsense to himself. The light above Harry's head flickered.</p><p>Ron edged forward, one hand on the ground and the other outstretched.</p><p>"Draco?" he said, as his hand touched Malfoy's arm.</p><p>The sink above them both exploded.</p><p>Harry yelled as Ron dove for Malfoy, rolling them both to the side as a whole chunk of wall fell where they had just been crouched. Bits of sink rained down around them.</p><p>Harry blinked.</p><p>Ron coughed, holding Malfoy on top of him. Both of them were grey with dust. A jet of water was spurting out of the hole in the wall where the sink had been.</p><p>"Bloody hell, Malfoy," Ron spluttered.</p><p>Harry rushed over to them.</p><p>"Don't move," he ordered, going into what he was beginning to think of as 'Healer mode.'</p><p>"P... Potter?" Malfoy whispered, blinking.</p><p>Harry quickly cast all the diagnostic spells he knew. Thankfully, apart from a few minor bruises and scrapes, they both seemed fine.</p><p>He sat back. Relief flooded through him.</p><p>The explosion seemed to have brought Malfoy back to the real world. He crawled off of Ron and sat back on his ankles to shake the dust out of his hair.</p><p>Ron sat up. All three of them stared at each other.</p><p>"So... would you mind telling me what the hell just happened?" Malfoy asked, the crisp, polite tone a world away from the mindless, howling creature he'd been minutes beforehand.</p><p>"You blew up the sixth floor boys' bathroom," Harry said as the first thing that came to mind.</p><p>"Oh." Malfoy looked around. Tear tracks were still streaked down his cheeks and his fingers were bloody, but he seemed not to notice. "Well, it needed remodelling anyway. That tile with that porcelain, what were they thinking?"</p><p>"Ha!" Ron barked out a laugh, which seemed to shock him as much as it did Harry.</p><p>Malfoy took in Ron's appearance then, fixating on the grey robes once more, and his face darkened. He stared down at his hands. Turned them over and back again. Then up at Ron's face. Then closed his eyes. Pained expression. Opened his eyes. Neutral expression.</p><p>
  <em>Not this again...</em>
</p><p>"You got me," he stated, simply. Coldly.</p><p>But Ron, who at first had looked like he was going to be sick, now turned to Harry and grinned enormously. It was like a lamp turning on.</p><p>"He's back!" he announced.</p><p>Malfoy's newly set bland expression cracked in an instant.</p><p>
  <em>"What?"</em>
</p><p>He shot a puzzled look at Harry. Harry returned it, just as puzzled.</p><p>Ron stood and pulled them both to their feet before anyone could protest. He shoved Malfoy's wand back in his hands and stood back, arms wide apart.</p><p>"I'm just glad you're, you know, you again. Scared the living shite outta me, that did.</p><p>"Now I'll be the first to admit I have been a total, utter arse. So before we all go to the Headmistress' office and get me kicked out, you'd best give it your best shot now. You won't get another one."</p><p>He seemed almost... jovial as he wagged a finger.</p><p>"Nothing illegal now, though."</p><p>Malfoy and Harry both spoke at once.</p><p>"What, does he want me to-?"</p><p>"Ron, what are you talking about?"</p><p>The redhead looked at them both.</p><p>"What?" he asked.</p><p>Malfoy sighed and rubbed his face on his sleeve. Beside him, what was left of the sink stopped spraying water everywhere, gurgled, and went silent.</p><p>"As I understand it. You attacked me, while somehow disguised as... as... You Know Who."</p><p>"It was a hat."</p><p>Malfoy stumbled at that, but persevered.</p><p>"It was a hat? Right. What? Nevermind. And you found me here. And I was in a bit of a... state, shall we say? Yes? Right. So... now you want me to what, hex you? And then have you expelled."</p><p>"'Bout the size of it. I went way over the line, Malfoy. I'm really sorry. Seriously."</p><p>Malfoy's eyes widened.</p><p>"Potter, did I just hear that correctly?"</p><p>"Yeah..." Harry discovered his mouth was open and promptly closed it.</p><p>Malfoy walked forward and pulled Ron's arms down like two levers. He held them there by the elbows.</p><p>"Weasley," he said.</p><p>Ron went red, but kept grinning in a kind of maniacal manner.</p><p>"If I were you, I'd wanna fuck me up right now, and I don't blame you," he said.</p><p>"Weasley."</p><p>"It's fine. I can take it. Harry, don't let him kill me."</p><p>"Weasley, what the fuck- I'm not going to hex you. Or punch you. Or kill you, for Godric's sake. It's... that's just... stupid. Look. Err...</p><p>"You are forgiven!" Malfoy said, brightening. "There."</p><p>He patted Ron's arms, twice, then took a step back.</p><p>"Err, Malfoy? You sure about that? 'Cause I mean, that was like... I did <em>that</em> to you."</p><p>Malfoy waved a hand. "And I have been, what is it, 'an evil little git'? For roughly the last seven years. Oh and briefly a Death Eater - though it wasn't really my idea - which is, I believe, frowned upon in your circles, yes?"</p><p>Harry snorted.</p><p>Ron cocked his head to one side.</p><p>Malfoy was pacing, awkwardly over the rubble, kicking stone aside with his scuffed black shoes.</p><p>"What do you think then. Even? Even-ish? Call it a draw?" he said, his voice pitched a little highly.</p><p>Ron's shoulders slumped in disbelief.</p><p>Harry looked from him to Malfoy. "You're serious? You're not going to... do... anything?"</p><p>Malfoy shook his head.</p><p>"Can I get your free hex then? 'Cause I'm still itching to punch the idiot."</p><p>"Hey!" Ron said.</p><p>"Do I get extra points if I leap in front of him and protect him with my own body?" Malfoy smirked.</p><p>The discussion of points on the night of the ball floated through Harry's memory. He grinned. "Plus five," he said.</p><p>"Is that all?"</p><p>"What are you two talking about?" Ron asked, looking baffled.</p><p>Malfoy turned to Ron. "Are we even if I save you from a, what, a nasty itching curse? Vomiting slugs?" he enquired.</p><p>"Err, I though you said we were even already?"</p><p>Malfoy's face stilled. He spoke carefully.</p><p>"Are we?"</p><p>Ron rubbed his hand through his once-red-now-grey hair. If the events of the afternoon were anything to go by, he was feeling probably more guilty than he'd felt when he abandoned Harry and Hermione in the woods back when they were searching for the Horcruxes. At least he hadn't been malicious then, just impulsive and angry. And in pain. This... what he'd done to Malfoy... it was like he'd been attacking a monstrous version of the ex-Slytherin, the Death Eater, the person he'd built up in his head and that Malfoy had, to be fair, once tried to be. But that... really, from what Harry had seen over the past few months, wasn't who he was anymore.</p><p><em>'I'm just a big empty pit where a person should be... I'm in the dark...'</em> Harry remembered what he'd overheard outside the Owlery.</p><p>
  <em>So who are you now, Malfoy?</em>
</p><p>"Um, Harry. Would you mind leaving, actually?" Ron asked, suddenly looking sheepish.</p><p>"Huh?"</p><p>"I uh. I think I want to talk to Malfoy alone. Is that alright? Promise I won't do anything stupid."</p><p><em>This is getting weirder and weirder.</em> But what was he meant to say to that kind of request? <em>'I'd rather not because I think you might either kill him or kiss him and I'm not sure which timeline makes sense anymore'?</em></p><p>Still, he found he didn't have much of choice when Ron threw him a pleading look.</p><p>"Err. Sure."</p><p>Harry hopped over the strewn bits of sink - a faucet had planted itself into one of the cubicle doors - and, with a single glance behind him, left. He could feel Malfoy's tear-reddened but amused eyes on the back of his neck as the door closed. He could hear Ron speaking just before the latch clicked.</p><p>"First off, yeah, Malfoy. We're even..."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. Muggle Lover</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"What're you looking at that for?" Hermione asked. Luna was with her. They both sat opposite Harry at the Dumbledore table. Luna was nose-deep in an upside-down copy of the <em>Quibbler</em> and seemed to be quite happily in her own world.</p><p>Harry jumped and folded the Marauder's Map, shoving it into his bag.</p><p>"Just... nothing."</p><p>"You're not looking for Malfoy again are you? Honestly. I thought you'd both given it a rest already. Actually, where <em>is</em> Ron? Flitwick hasn't given him detention has he? I know he was meant to hand in that essay on hovering charms yesterday and I'm pretty sure he didn't do it last night."</p><p>How Hermione knew about Ron's homework obligations Harry had no idea. She seemed to have a telepathic ability to tell when they were meant to hand in all their assignments, despite not being in a single one of their classes. Truly, it was impressive. Perhaps Hermione's 'gift' in Divination was to look at a person and divine all their failed responsibilities.</p><p>He shrugged, trying not to give anything away on his face.</p><p>Anything like the fact that after Charms he had just watched as two inky blots labelled 'Ron Weasley' and 'Draco Malfoy' had left the classroom, lingered in the hallway and were currently in a disused classroom. Together.</p><p><em>Maybe they had more to talk about?</em> After the incident last week, Ron had come back to the Den hours after Harry had left the sixth floor bathroom, but he hadn't said anything except that it was 'all sorted' and 'he didn't have to worry about it.' Naturally, Harry had hardly thought of anything else.</p><p>"Mister Potter?"</p><p>Harry started out of his reverie.</p><p>Professor Collins was standing there. He had a familiar stack of parchment notes in his hand.</p><p>"Ready to give it another go?" he asked, handing Harry a similar invitation as he had previously, with the same words, 'Group Psychological Discussion - Obligatory Extra-curricular, All Years', written in bold script along the top.</p><p>"Again?"</p><p>Collins wagged a finger. "We did not complete our session. I believe due to the actions of your friend? Can you give him an invitation, too? And tell him I expect behaviour fitting of an of-age wizard this time around, yes?"</p><p>"Yeah, sure I'll tell him." Harry said, doing his best to sound earnest.</p><p>"Tomorrow evening, then."</p><p>The teacher wandered off towards the other end of the table. He looked around and said something to Greengrass, who shook her head in reply. He frowned and headed back up to the staff table.</p><p>Hermione took the paper from his hands.</p><p>"I haven't had an invitation to one of these yet, what is it like? Do you get a grade?"</p><p>"Errr. I don't think so, 'Mione."</p><p>"Well then. Do you get anything for attending? A note on your record or anything?"</p><p>"Uhh. I don't think so either."</p><p>She huffed. "In that case, what's the point? What do you learn?"</p><p>Harry thought back.</p><p>"Um. Nothing really?"</p><p>She handed him back the paper in disgust. "Sounds like a waste of time to me. Now excuse me, I have to go pretend to see something in a crystal ball for an hour in a few minutes and I need to refresh my Arithmancy tables in my head so I can at least do some useful memorisation while I'm at it."</p><p>"Divination not working out like you'd hoped?"</p><p>She scrunched up her face.</p><p>"Not at all. There are some interesting books on the matter but Trelawney is insistent we spend all of our time 'intuiting' and reading tea leaves and so on. Anthony says she's trying to express a phenomenon that is foundational to her mageo-psychological profile using means that make sense to her but when intellectualised have no clear route to understanding for others. He likens it to the difference between magic that you or I use and the magic that House Elves use, but the differences are less visible and harder to grasp."</p><p>Harry thought this just sounded like another way of saying she was batty.</p><p>"It makes sense to me," Luna said in her dreamy way. "Like sometimes how I feel like a kneazle and other times I'm a ball of wool."</p><p>As usual, Harry didn't really know how to reply to Luna, but he nodded anyway. She smiled at him knowingly.</p><p>"Anyway, in the absence of an analytical approach in the texts, I'm doing my best to study patterns in behaviour or outcomes to see if there is a thread of logic in there," Hermione said. "Listen, I've got to go. Bye Luna."</p><p>Harry waved. Luna didn't look up but she said, as Hermione walked out of ear-shot, "I noticed earlier the Goldstein boy has Wrackspurts, so I wouldn't worry, Harry. She's just got them from him."</p><p>"Is... is that a bad thing?"</p><p>Luna shook her magazine. "Oh no, not at all. Unless you're not interested in that sort of thing. Then it's quite a hindrance."</p><p>Just then, Ron finally walked through the doors of the Great Hall. He spotted Harry and for some reason immediately went red in the face. He sat down beside him without looking at him. He was breathing heavily and his usual dishevelled appearance was more pronounced than normal, with his tie misaligned and his shirt half untucked. There was something... off about him.</p><p>"Wotcher, Harry. Luna," he muttered.</p><p>
  <em>What is it? His lips are red and swollen, like he's been, I dunno, crying or...</em>
</p><p>Harry was staring and he didn't care.</p><p>
  <em>Like he's been kissing someone.</em>
</p><p>It was kind of obvious, especially with Ron's expressively pale skin that marked like white parchment. The 'come up for air' look, with blotches of pink and red lips like they'd been stung. Of course, Harry had seen the look plenty of times before. With Lavender Brown. And Hermione, in the summer. But this time he couldn't help but feel his own heart start to beat faster as images of Malfoy and Ron grinding against one another in the Owlery corridor came unbidden to his mind.</p><p>Luna put down her magazine, folded her arms and stared intensely at him, and then at Harry.</p><p>"Err. What?" Ron said as he started shovelling food onto his plate.</p><p>"Well I am glad none of you have died yet," she said. "That would've really upset me." She giggled. "Can you imagine the kerfuffle? What a wonderful word that is... kerfuffle, kerfuffle, kerfuffle..."</p><p>"Luna, what the fuck-?"</p><p>She waved as she stood up. "Oh, don't mind me. You carry on. It is good to have friends but I must say, it's tiring to watch you all... bumble about. But I don't want to disturb the natural flow here so I'm just going to visit the Thestrals instead. Good luck!"</p><p>Once she'd left, Ron said, through a mouthful of mash, "Watch us all 'bumble about'? I swear I will never know what she's on about."</p><p>"I... I think I'm started to get it," Harry said. It was true. He was getting better at translating Luna-speak.</p><p>"Then what in Merlin's name was she saying?"</p><p>Harry opened and closed his mouth.</p><p>"Um."</p><p>
  <em>Nope, now is not that time. 'Hey Ron, I think she knows that you've just snogged Malfoy for the second time - at least, I think it's the second time. I wouldn't be surprised if she knows what socks I have on, frankly.' Maybe Hermione should write a research paper on Luna Lovegood.</em>
</p><p>"Err. No, you're right, she was just being Luna."</p><p>Ron puzzled at him, but dropped it, to Harry's relief.</p><p>After lunch, Harry entered the Transfiguration classroom with considerable trepidation. He scanned the faces as the rest of the class entered. No Malfoy. He wasn't late, either. He never showed up at all, which left Harry completely unable to concentrate for the entire lesson. He was itching to whip out the map to sate his curiosity, but with the theory part of the lesson over too quickly, he had to satisfy himself with practicing live conjurations with Seamus Finnigan, instead of his usual stoic yet snarky partner.</p><p>The next evening, Ron and Harry found themselves in the Muggle Studies showroom once more, surrounded by the same group of students as before. Malfoy was sat beside Professor Collins again. When they sat opposite him in the circle of dimly lit chairs, he looked up and, catching sight of them...</p><p>Smiled.</p><p>Actually smiled.</p><p>Not a smirk.</p><p>It was a fraction of a second, but Harry saw it. Saw the sudden rising wave of anticipation and relief wash over Malfoy's face before it reset to a bored, neutral expression. It had appeared so quickly and so naturally that if it hadn't been Malfoy's pale, pointy face, Harry felt sure he would've returned the gesture. He chanced a peek at Ron, but his face was a study of expressionlessness.</p><p>"Right!" Professor Collins said. He ran through the rules of the session again. "Now that we've got that out of the way, we'll do a bit of a warm-up exercise, yes? I will write each of the five Houses on the board. Tell me something you <em>dislike</em> or even, dare I say it, <em>hate,</em> about one of these Houses. Even if you're in the House in question. Come on. Let's let off a little steam here. Potter?"</p><p>Harry jumped.</p><p>"Err. Dumbledore House. No Quidditch?"</p><p>Collins had readied his floating piece of chalk against the board but stopped it as one white line scraped along the black surface.</p><p>"That's... not quite what I meant, Mister Potter. Events, characteristics, and so on. Try again."</p><p>"Um. Well, Slytherins are..." E<em>vil? Manipulative? Bullies? The bane of my existence?</em> "Disruptive," he finished, lamely.</p><p>"Interesting. 'Disruptive' in what way?"</p><p>Harry pointed at his forehead. "What way do you think, Professor? They've kind of disrupted my whole life and that's, well- that's putting it mildly."</p><p>The other Hogwarts students tittered around him.</p><p>"Come now, give me a specific example."</p><p>Harry's eyes landed on Malfoy. Malfoy, who was already staring right back at him. Malfoy, who crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow and seemed far too relaxed.</p><p>"How about telling lies to the press about me? Tormenting me and my friends as part of the Inquisitorial squad? Dressing up as a Dementor? Letting Death Eaters into Hogwarts? That sort of thing?"</p><p>Harry could feel the eyes of the room on him. His blood was starting to feel... fizzy.</p><p>"Good. Malfoy?" Professor Collins gestured at him.</p><p>Malfoy stared at Harry as he spoke.</p><p>"Gryffindors. Sanctimonious. Oblivious. Single-minded. Judgemental. Indelicate. Should I go on?"</p><p>"Lovely," Collins said as the chalk wrote on the board beside him. "Weasley. Take Malfoy here, what do you think? An ex-Slytherin and, as I understand it, a source of personal animosity?"</p><p>Malfoy turned his chair to face the teacher so Harry couldn't see his expression, but Collins simply tilted his head towards the circle of students in response to whatever Malfoy's face had communicated.</p><p>"Wh- what do I think of Malfoy?" Ron stuttered. "Err... that he's a git o'course."</p><p>"Why?"</p><p>Ron shifted uncomfortably. He was going pink. Harry shot a glance at Malfoy and saw his attention had also shifted to the redhead, with an expression of strangely open curiosity.</p><p>"Well, like all the stuff Harry said. And he calls 'Mione a Mudblood and-"</p><p>"I'm sorry."</p><p>"What?" Harry heard himself say.</p><p>Malfoy's relaxed pose was too still, to carefully arranged to be real.</p><p>"You heard me Potter. I'm sorry. Unimaginative name-calling is no longer... an interest of mine. Weasley, you had something else?"</p><p>"I did? Err. What about calling my family poor?"</p><p>"You had more than I did in many ways. Love. Basic requirement for child-raising. I was jealous. My apologies. Anything else? I believe I have much to repent in your eyes, yes?"</p><p>"Well... fuck yeah you do. Like. Years of stuff. Stuff that you can't just 'sorry' away."</p><p>At this Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "Hmm. If that doesn't cut it, is there anything else I can do?"</p><p>"D-d-do?"</p><p>Collins raised a hand. "Boys. Another time, I think. But very interesting discussion. Let's move on. Francis?"</p><p>A Ravenclaw answered, and soon thereafter the board was filled with incidents, grievances and judgements across the Houses. Slytherin had the longest list, by far. Professor Collins returned to his seat without referencing the board.</p><p>"Time, I think, to break into one-to-one discussions. Remember to conduct yourselves as is fitting students of Hogwarts, and not squabbling skrewts. I'd like you all to tell a story from your experience of You-Know-Who's uprising - this is a safe space, and an opportunity to share what you may not have spoken about for some months now. It is not up to the other person to comfort, merely to be a diligent listener."</p><p>Everyone shuffled to face one another and the rounds of exchanges began. Harry hardly knew where to start. He didn't have one story; he had hundreds. Thousands. Many of which were secrets, or so dark that telling a stranger about them seemed crude. Like one-upmanship. And the students facing him were clearly thinking the same, rushing through how they'd been forced to take Dark Arts classes or how they'd lost a friend or relative to the Death Eaters, as if they knew that nothing they were saying could ever live up to the Boy Who Lived's war stories.</p><p>And finally, of course, there was Malfoy.</p><p>Harry found he couldn't quite bring himself to meet his eyes.</p><p>"Do we really need to do this?" he asked. Professor Collins, thankfully, was on the other side of the circle.</p><p>Malfoy tapped his fingertips on his knee. Harry followed the staccato drumbeat of those long, white fingers. Fingers that had clutched at ginger hair...</p><p>"Well, Potter. I agree with you there. It does seem rather redundant," he drawled.</p><p>"Malfoy - did you just agree with me on something?"</p><p>"Do I not seem the agreeable sort?"</p><p>Harry nodded at the board. "Most people don't seem to think so."</p><p>"Oh that. Collins is a bastard, isn't he? Making me out like some sort of patsy. In any case, what is it Muggles say? Water on a duck's quack?"</p><p>Harry laughed. "Err. Not quite."</p><p>Malfoy huffed.</p><p>"Honestly. It's like I've never read <em>Muggles: A Mystery,"</em> he said, in a passable impersonation of Hermione Granger.</p><p>Harry had spent about seven years resolutely not finding Malfoy funny at all, and yet now, as he couldn't hold back another chuckle, he berated himself for giggling like a damn schoolgirl at every second thing that came out of his mouth.</p><p>
  <em>Do NOT think about Draco Malfoy's mouth.</em>
</p><p>Malfoy glanced across the circle to somewhere behind Harry. Ron was definitely seated in that direction.</p><p>"Don't rile him up again," he found himself saying before he could stop himself.</p><p>"Oh but what if I <em>like</em> riling him up? It has to be said, it's easy entertainment. I don't get a lot of that these days. And he goes as red as a Chinese Fireball."</p><p>"Yeah, well don't. He's had a rough time."</p><p>"We have a truce, remember. And haven't we all?"</p><p>"Have you?"</p><p>Malfoy locked eyes with him.</p><p>"What do you think, Potter? Have I had a 'rough time'?"</p><p>Harry fumbled, unsure what to do now the question had been thrown back at him.</p><p>"I uh. I think you've... I think you had to make choices. I think you made bad ones that hurt people. And now, now everyone in the lower years is afraid of you and everyone in Dumbledore House hates you apart from the Slytherins. The wizarding world thinks you're Voldemort's loyal servant. I think if you're having a rough time... you brought it on yourself."</p><p>"Do you hate me?"</p><p>"Um." Again, Harry was taken aback.</p><p>"I- I used to. I've had to do a lot more hating than I'd like. I'm beginning to think I don't have it in me anymore... like... it all got burned up. I'm tired of hate." That much was true.</p><p>"Do you think I've changed?" Malfoy leaned forward, his voice lowering.</p><p>"I don't know how to answer that..."</p><p>"Do you think I've changed? Yes or no?"</p><p>
  <em>Why is he asking? What does he want?</em>
</p><p>"Yes? Not changed, exactly. But there used to be Crabbe, Goyle, your father... they made you... different? To what you are like now. I mean, we're actually having a civil conversation. Again."</p><p>"Takes two to tango, Potter. At least. Another Muggle phrase I hope I've picked up correctly."</p><p>
  <em>Huh?</em>
</p><p>Malfoy glanced behind Harry again. His voice dropped once more, to a whisper.</p><p>"Do you like watching me, Potter?"</p><p>"Do I.... w-w-what?"</p><p>"Do you remember what we did?"</p><p>Harry felt colour drain from his face.</p><p>"Outside? On the night of the Christmas ball?"</p><p>Malfoy swallowed. He kept his eyes firmly on Harry. His knee was shaking.</p><p>"N-n-n-no..."</p><p>He smirked, ever so slightly.</p><p>"Do you remember when we kissed?"</p><p>Harry leapt out of his chair with a bang.</p><p>"SHUT UP!" he heard himself yelling.</p><p>Malfoy stood, too, startled at Harry's sudden eruption.</p><p>'<em>Calm down, Potter,'</em> Harry heard Malfoy's voice directly echo inside his mind.</p><p>"GET OUT OF MY HEAD," he yelled, reaching for his wand.</p><p>But before either of them could say anything else they found themselves rendered speechless at a quick spell that emanated from Professor Collins' wand.</p><p>"Malfoy. Potter. Detention. After this class. And five points from Dumbledore."</p><p>As neither of them had the ability to protest, they were left to sit mutely as the class resumed. Ron cast Harry a pitying look. Harry shrugged at him, feigning an outward nonchalance that hid his internal panic.</p><p>He knew. Malfoy <em>knew</em>.</p><p>It stood to reason, he was <em>there</em> after all. But still. To bring it up out of the blue like that. In class. Where people could <em>hear.</em> It was madness. And why mention a stupid, drunken, embarrassing mistake? None of it made any sense.</p><p>Once the class had ended after a few more discussions and exercises, Collins congratulated them all for participating as he pointedly wiped the duster across the chalkboard, returning it to its previous blank state. The others, including Ron, filed out, leaving Harry and Malfoy to silently help the teacher pack up the chairs.</p><p>He took them both to the Muggle Studies classroom, where a fire was blazing away in the grate, before asking them to sort four boxes of books onto the shelves at the back.</p><p>"I will be in my office. I suggest you two take this time to talk. It's time," he said, making his way towards the door. As he turned the handle he paused, remembering. He undid the silencing spell.</p><p>"Bastian, what the fuck?" were the first words out of Malfoy's mouth.</p><p>"Language, Draco. And for the last time it's Professor Collins." The words sounded as if they were part of a ritual back-and-forth.</p><p>"And for the last time, <em>Bastian</em>, I don't want to do the 'Bad Guy' schtick again. It's degrading. I thought we'd agreed."</p><p>Malfoy sat up onto the teacher's desk as Harry gaped at the pair of them.</p><p>Collins folded his arms in an almost Snape-like manner. Cool. Aloof.</p><p>"Draco..." he said, in a warning tone.</p><p>"What? It's just Potter. He can keep a secret. Is this a secret, even? I never know what to call it."</p><p>"Class assistance?"</p><p>"What's that when it's involuntary? Indentured servitude?"</p><p>"At school I believe that's called 'I'm the teacher, so your opinion doesn't matter'."</p><p>"Yet I <em>will</em> keep talking. I can take a hundred classes with a hundred students telling me how much they hate me and my kind. But really, the bit at the end where you 'wipe the slate clean'? We've <em>talked</em> about how trite that move is. Everyone can see what you're doing, it's - frankly - cliché, sentimental, obvious. I know teenagers, Bastian. It hits all wrong."</p><p>"You can tell me all your theories on the other side of your degree. Until then, I'll make the decisions. Now are you going to play nice with Potter, Draco? I think it's time to confront the issue head on, yes? Like we discussed. Calmly. Rationally. Don't overanalyse. Don't put up the front. Make a connection, build a bridge-"</p><p>"Yeah yeah. Go on, get back to your bottlecap collection, I know you want to."</p><p>"How you have survived this long with that tongue in your head I have no idea." Collins sighed, then left. The door clicked shut behind him.</p><p>Harry rounded on Malfoy immediately.</p><p>"What the hell?"</p><p>Malfoy bounced off the desk and walked around it. He started rifling through the the drawers.</p><p>"He usually has... aha!" He reached deep into a drawer and pulled out a paper bag. "Mint?" he said, proffering the bag after he'd popped a sweet in his mouth. "No? I reckon Vance's collection gave Bastian the habit. And Dumbledore has provided my own mentor. Is that irony? I have no idea."</p><p>"Malfoy? I will hex you."</p><p>"What do you want to know?"</p><p>"What any of the last five minutes meant."</p><p>Malfoy chucked the bag back in the desk. He strode past Harry and began casually sorting the books as he spoke.</p><p>"So part of my condition of return, as the only Death Eater at Hogwarts, was that I not only attend classes for the full year, but that I must take Muggle Studies. And not just take Muggle Studies, but take the extra classes Collins has been brought here to do as well. The class you have just attended. That was your second one, yes? Well I've been at every. Single. One of them. Trelawney is running them, too, so I've been helping with her ones as well. Helping is a strong word. Enduring is more the case with her. There's a lot of holding hands and asking the spirits for forgiveness."</p><p>He turned, holding a book. "As a result, I've spent countless hours learning about Muggles and countless more hours talking about my feelings until I'm blue in the face. Not to mention when we're preparing for the classes Bastian has this way of getting me to spill all my damned secrets without me even meaning to. There. Surprise."</p><p>"Muggle Studies?"</p><p>"Yes. I'm doing rather well actually. Think I'll get an Outstanding."</p><p>Harry was having a hard time picturing the pureblood wizard, the one who had spent so long called Muggleborns Mudbloods and sneering at anything Muggle-related at all, taking a Muggle Studies class.</p><p>"They're making you take the class?"</p><p>"Well. Yes."</p><p>
  <em>So it's not like he wants to. He's forced to, so that hardly means anything.</em>
</p><p>Malfoy walked over to him.</p><p>"However. It has opened my eyes to my more... grievous behaviours. I did mean it when I said sorry about Granger. I grew up on stories of monsters. To find they are humans just like me after all is... it's something I am still getting used to. But I am certain of the ignorance of my younger years. And I'm not a child anymore."</p><p>Harry couldn't help but notice that no, he certainly was not. He was tall. More assured, but not as cocky as he's once been. Slim. Precise. Delicate but masculine at the same time. He realised from the raised eyebrow that he should be saying something in return.</p><p>"Wow. That's.... and he let's you call him by his first name?"</p><p>Malfoy laughed. "That's your take-away here? We're of-age, don't you think we can start letting go of such things?"</p><p>"I'd like to see you try with McGonagall," Harry said ruefully.</p><p>"True. That would be one way to go out in a blaze of glory.</p><p>"Look. We've both grown up. And as annoying and pushy as he is, Bastian is right. We should be able to have a discussion. Without bathroom sinks blowing up or whatever else."</p><p>"Did you..." Harry had to work up the nerve to finish his sentence. The classroom was unseasonably hot. "Did you talk to Ron, too? He... says you two, worked stuff out."</p><p>"Did he now?" Malfoy moved a step closer. "Yes. I think you could say, we... have an understanding. Bastian has been encouraging me to, in his words, 'build bridges.' So..."</p><p>Harry's eyes traced the line where Malfoy's jaw met his ear, where white-gold hairs melted into white-gold skin.</p><p>"Would you like to discuss our differences in a calm..."</p><p>He stepped forward again.</p><p>"Rational..."</p><p>Harry could smell mint.</p><p>"Manner?"</p><p>Malfoy reached between them, impossibly, to touch Harry's cheek.</p><p>"Um!" Harry squeaked.</p><p>Was Malfoy always this tall? He was as tall as Ron, nearly. And Harry had to tilt his face up to look at him from this angle, and they were so close their chests were practically touching, but all he could feel was Malfoy's cool fingers on his cheek, and the cool minty wash of his breath, and the hot, stuffy classroom and then he wasn't sure why, but he reached up to Malfoy's face, too. The blonde's eyes slid shut and he shivered as Harry traced the line of his jaw with his fingers, just as he had done with his eyes moments before. And the room was silent, except for their breath.</p><p>He let his fingers trail over the ridged whorls of Malfoy's ear - elfen-like, slightly pointed, he noticed - and then round, behind it, running down the skin on the side of his neck to his collarbone. He had to push the fabric aside, ever so slightly, to reach where the skin dipped into his clavicle, before jutting out again. He ran his thumb over Malfoy's throat.</p><p>Then, feeling hypnotised, Harry felt himself step even closer, making Malfoy's hand drop to his shoulder. Harry traced the end of his thumb over Malfoy's chin, his palm brushed his high cheekbone. He danced his fingertips over his slim nose and between his brows. He even felt the fluttering closed eyelids and the tickle of almost transparent eyelashes. Malfoy murmured something then, not words, but a question all the same. Harry reached for the hand resting on his shoulder and brought it to his own face. Malfoy began to mirror his movements, etching lines across his features with the lightest of touches.</p><p>He closed his eyes. It was easier to get lost in the sensation in the dark. Easier to forget who he was doing this with, and where he was, and even who he was. Just to feel the soft, sweet touches. The long fingers in his unruly hair, on his neck, lingering on his forehead where the lightning bolt scar made otherwise smooth skin rough - the gentleness of it he tried to match, feeling uncertain, clumsy, curious.</p><p>His heart was thrumming in his chest. That burning, soaring feeling had returned, like a fire catching hold. He let his hand move further down Malfoy's neck, to run over his robes, down his chest, and up again, over his arms, his wrists, his hand, the palm slightly damp, the fingers slightly calloused, the bones on the back of his hand stark, the edge of a scar... from the burn. He paused there, rubbing the skin, remembering that day in the hospital wing. He felt the fire build in him. His hands returned to Malfoy's body, feeling the firmness of it, the ribs and the muscles, the hips... he found his arms curling around that thin frame, pulling it closer, as if he needed the blonde's heat, but he was already so hot, his insides burning with excitement, or terror, or something in between.</p><p>He opened his eyes to find Malfoy's icy grey eyes staring right into them. His own hands were tangled in Harry's hair.</p><p>Just then, they heard the sound of the door click. They leapt apart as much as they could manage as the door swung open.</p><p>"Sorry boys, forgot my-"</p><p>Professor Collins took in their proximity. "Marvellous. Little talk going well then, I hope?"</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. Lightning</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Malfoy coughed.</p><p>"B-back so soon?" he said, sounding <em>almost</em> normal.</p><p>Collins walked past Harry, who was doing his best to appear fascinated by the woodgrain on a nearby desk, and picked up a magazine.</p><p>"<em>Bottlecaps Quarterly</em>. Say, Draco, once you are done please can you lock up after yourselves? I'd rather not brave the corridors again. Freezing this time of night."</p><p>"Uh - yeah. 'Course."</p><p>With that, the teacher left. Harry looked up at Draco Malfoy. His heart was thumping, both from fear at nearly being caught and from the fact that he was stunningly, unmistakably aroused by what they had nearly been caught doing. Which was insane, because technically... technically they had just been... doing what exactly?</p><p>Malfoy grinned shakily.</p><p>"That was close."</p><p>Harry gulped. Nodded. Malfoy rolled his eyes.</p><p>"Fuck. I really must be losing it," he said to himself. He looked up.</p><p>"I suppose you want to talk?" he asked.</p><p>"Err... not really."</p><p>"Oh?"</p><p>Harry thought about it. If they weren't going to talk, then what were they going to do? Touch? <em>Kiss?</em></p><p>"Alright... maybe we should talk."</p><p>"Blast." Malfoy sighed. "Come on then, we might as well do Bastian's books while we're at it."</p><p>Harry followed him over to the bookshelves. The pair began unpacking the boxes and stacking the books in order. It wasn't strenuous, but rather quickly Harry found he was sweating. The fire crackled behind him. Otherwise, the silence was the loudest thing in the room. Neither of them had spoken for several minutes. Finally, he couldn't bear it anymore.</p><p>"Bloody hell it's hot," he said.</p><p>He put down a pile of leather-bound tomes and pulled his robe over his head. Underneath he was wearing a shirt and grey jumper - though, like Ron, he had long since ditched the school tie.</p><p>Malfoy eyed him openly. His pupils were dilated.</p><p>"I should say so," he quipped.</p><p>Harry felt his face redden. He steeled himself.</p><p>"Look. I uh. I don't know what we were just doing. Or what happened at the Christmas ball. But I think... um. It's making me think about a lot of stuff right now and I don't know what to say so I'm just gonna ask. <em>Something</em>. Right. Are... are you gay, Malfoy?"</p><p>Malfoy slid a book into place on the shelf with a <em>snick.</em> A pale pink flush of colour skirted up the back of his neck and danced over his cheekbones.</p><p>"Is that any of your business, Potter?"</p><p>Harry folded his arms. "It might be."</p><p>"Are <em>you?"</em></p><p>"Am I what?" Harry asked, confused.</p><p>"Are <em>you</em> gay?"</p><p>"What? No! Uh. I... well no, I don't think. Um. How would <em>I</em> know?"</p><p>Malfoy smirked. He waved a hand as he spoke.</p><p>"Well, Potter. Apart from anything else, you may find the main tell is if you fancy men. I should have thought even you would've figured that one out."</p><p>"But - I like girls?"</p><p>"I recall. The Weasley girl, yes? Whatever happened there?"</p><p>"None of your business."</p><p>"Touché. Well, one can like both. And I've noticed you have got a rather unsubtle tendency to... stare."</p><p>Harry felt his throat constrict. What he wouldn't do for a glass of water right now. Or an escape route. He should've never opened his dumb mouth.</p><p>"What do you mean?"</p><p>Malfoy stepped closer and Harry backed into a desk. He held his hands up defensively.</p><p>"I mean that I've noticed you ogling the various specimens in our hallowed House. Longbottom's grown into himself, hasn't he? And Thomas is, well, in the right light, quite something."</p><p>"So... so you <em>are</em> gay?"</p><p>"Do you... <em>want</em>.... me to be?" Malfoy asked, pointedly.</p><p>"Uh. How the hell am I supposed to answer that, Malfoy? Besides, I told you. I like girls. I've uh, been with girls. In bed. I definitely liked it." <em>I am officially going crazy. What did I just tell him THAT for?</em></p><p>Malfoy looked impressed.</p><p>"Oh really? I wouldn't have expected it of you, Potter. I will file that little snippet away, thank you <em>very</em> much. And have you any experience, otherwise? With members of your own sex? Apart from our recent interactions?"</p><p>"N-no."</p><p>Malfoy bit his lip and Harry stifled an unmanly noise. How could such a tiny gesture look so...</p><p>
  <em>Enticing?</em>
</p><p>Harry remembered running his fingers over those lips. How soft they were, how they'd parted slightly under his touch...</p><p>"To answer your question: yes. I like men. I have... what was your phrasing? Been with men. And I definitely liked it. In fact, I'd even go so far as to say I'd highly recommend the experience to anyone who was... interested."</p><p>Malfoy hesitated, then stepped closer. Harry found that this time he was stuck as if welded to the spot.</p><p><em>'Secrets, Potter. I'm beginning to think you're collecting mine,'</em> his voice trickled into Harry's head like the rush of a cool, clear brook.</p><p>Harry jumped. "How are you doing that?"</p><p>Malfoy cocked his head.</p><p>
  <em>'Among my many talents, I am rather gifted in the arts of Legilimency and Occlumency. And my, Potter, I can see you are rather preoccupied with our earlier activities, would you care to-'</em>
</p><p>With the effort of closing an over-full suitcase, Harry shoved Malfoy out of his mind.</p><p>"Stop that," he warned, wandlessly making the stacks of books hover around him using the wooden amulet around his neck to channel his energy. He advanced on Malfoy, feeling torn between hurling the books at him and wrestling him to the ground or... or something else.</p><p>Just then, a clap of thunder outside made him lose concentration, and the books tumbled around them. He glanced outside. It was pitch black, but the window pane was spattered with raindrops that reflected the torchlight inside. Lightning split the clouds, illuminating the view of the Quidditch pitch outside for a fraction of a second and casting the classroom in a wash of greys and shadows.</p><p>Another bang. This time, it was the door to the classroom opening.</p><p>"Harry! Malfoy!"</p><p>It was Ron. He was breathing hard, as if he'd been running. Harry felt a heavy feeling in the pit of his stomach. Had Ron heard their conversation? What the hell was he doing here?</p><p>"Ron? What is it?" he asked.</p><p>"Whaddaya mean 'what is it?' It's a lightning storm! <em>Finally</em>."</p><p>Malfoy's eyes widened in comprehension. He turned and strode towards the door.</p><p>"Of course. Brilliant! I can't believe I'd almost forgotten. Well, are you coming, Potter?"</p><p>"Oh, Malfoy. Yeah, um," Ron said, eloquently as Malfoy stood in front of him. The pair seemed to forget Harry was there for a moment as their eyes met. Malfoy cocked his head and gestured politely towards the door.</p><p>Harry was more baffled than ever.</p><p>"What's going on?" Harry said, feeling, now, as if Ron's sudden appearance had nothing to do with... well whatever he'd been thinking. He followed them both out into the corridor.</p><p>Ron grabbed his arm. He was practically bouncing on his toes with excitement.</p><p>"Harry, it's a lightning storm! We can finally take the Animagus potion. I might be able to transform tonight!" Ron babbled excitedly as Malfoy locked the door behind them. "I came to find you - figured you were both still in detention. Didn't think you'd wanna miss it."</p><p>"How did you know where we were?" Malfoy asked.</p><p>Ron jumped, as if he'd forgotten he was there. He winked at Harry and patted his chest pocket, where Harry assumed the magical map resided.</p><p>"Oh uh... I guessed, 'course. Not that hard."</p><p>"Right. Is McGonagall waiting?" Malfoy asked.</p><p>"Yeah. Outside the Great Hall. She knows I was comin' this way."</p><p>"Let's hurry this along then, shall we?" Malfoy suggested. "Before we miss our window of opportunity?"</p><p>The three of them ran towards the main entrance into Hogwarts. They found Headmistress McGonagall, who was wearing her Emerald cloak, and a small group of nervous-looking seventh and eighth years gathered there. The stern witch nodded at Harry.</p><p>"Coming along for... moral support, I suppose?"</p><p>Harry nodded. "Yeah."</p><p>"Very well."</p><p>Professor Tang arrived as well, clutching a sack in one hand and a long umbrella with a bone handle in the other.</p><p>"Harry Potter - lovely to have you with us. Nice evening for it, eh? Excellent opportunity to learn as well. Not that this is part of a Healing potion process exactly, but certainly failed Animagi transformation is a rare but known affliction, so this may well prove educational on that front."</p><p>"Failed?"</p><p>They walked out in the storm and Tang opened her umbrella with a pop. She took Harry's elbow and shouted back over the roar of the rain.</p><p>"Failed transformation is much like splinching. The lost part is not a limb, in this case, but oneself. One's humanity or identity or even memories, often. Alongside physical deformities. Why I know a witch who quite liked the tail they grew, and decided to keep it."</p><p>"Is that what happens if this doesn't work?" Harry yelled, glad that Ron was out of earshot. He and Malfoy had been ushered ahead by McGonagall, who was giving the group some sort of lecture.</p><p>"I should say 'partial' rather than 'failed'. There is no guarantee any of our cohort will transform tonight. Many will find their Animagus form in the coming months, or even years. This is but the catalyst to unlock the ability. Some people are more sensitive in their reaction to the potion. And some people are sensitive in the wrong way... as if it is allergic reaction. My hypothesis, anyway. And that can have <em>most</em> unpleasant results."</p><p>Harry must've looked horrified, because she quickly added: "Not that I expect any of this will happen today. You have friends here, yes?"</p><p>He nodded.</p><p>"They'll be just fine. I'm sure."</p><p>Harry did not find her tone convincing, but before he could question her further she handed him the umbrella and cast a spell on her hat to repel the rain. She marched out to join the Headmistress. They were on the grounds half-way to Hagrid's hut, near the greenhouses. Tang opened her sack and handed out glass vials with a silvery fluid inside.</p><p>Harry sidled closer, feeling like an intruder. The atmosphere was tense. Electric.</p><p>McGonagall spoke, using her wand to amplify her voice.</p><p>"Now. Some of you have successfully brewed your potions already. Others have had to repeat the initial steps of this process, but may use this as an opportunity to decide if you want to continue, I suppose. Watch closely. This may not be for the faint of heart. But, among us there could well be the next generation of Animagi.</p><p>"If we are ready to begin, please can everyone who is taking their potion tonight stand with at least a two foot radius around you? We do not know what form your transformation will take so everyone give them plenty of space. That's it. Good."</p><p>Harry gave Ron a thumbs up. Ron nodded, looking green. Malfoy stood a few feet away, also looking a bit worse for wear. And all the students were very wet indeed, as McGonagall had forbidden them the use of any protective magics that may interfere with the process.</p><p>"Very well. Good luck. Please recite the usual incantation and then drink the <em>entire</em> contents of your vials. As I recall the flavour is most unpleasant."</p><p>The group spoke as one on her command, their wands pointed at their hearts: <em>"Amato Animo Animato Animagus."</em> It was a familiar spell. Harry had heard Ron say it every day for months even after the 'trial by mandrake leaf', as that ritual had been required to ensure the spell would work.</p><p>They finished the final syllable. A flash of lightning illuminated the group when they unstopped their potions and drank. Harry watched as Ron tipped his head back. His eyes were screwed shut. Thunder rolled. Harry realised he was gripping the umbrella's bone handle so tightly that the carved surface had indented onto his palm. The other onlookers seemed equally gripped.</p><p>Nothing happened. The rain drummed on above him.</p><p>McGonagall sent up a few more balls of light to hover around them. She scanned the small group, who were either standing very still as if waiting for something to fall on their head, or were also looking around to see if anything was happening to anyone else. Ron was part of the latter set. He shrugged at Harry.</p><p>And then doubled over like he'd been kicked.</p><p>"Ron!"</p><p>Harry went to go to him but Professor Tang stood in his way.</p><p>"Best keep your distance. As I understand it, this is a delicate process and should not be disturbed."</p><p>She plucked the umbrella from his grip and stood beside him. They watched as Ron fell to the ground. He was writhing, his face contorted in agony. Harry fought to remain where he was and felt like the worst friend in doing so. How could he just stand back and watch while this was happening?</p><p>"Is it meant to be like that? What if he did it wrong? There's something not right, professor!"</p><p>Tang patted his back. "You must let the magic to its work. He will endure."</p><p>Ron screamed and arched his back as the lightning traced a web of jagged light across the clouds. His balled fists scrabbled at the grass, then at his own chest. He rolled on to his side and curled into himself, sobbing.</p><p>Draco Malfoy was standing nearby, and he too seemed transfixed by Ron. He looked as sick as Harry felt. His own empty vial lay by his feet in the grass.</p><p>No-one else was moving.</p><p>Ron yelped again and wrapped his arms around his head, as if trying to block out a terrible noise, or to cradle a splitting headache. He pulled his legs in even more tightly, more tightly than they should go and Harry realised he was - amazingly - shrinking. His form seemed to blur and flicker, becoming less human, more human, then less, then more again. He shrank further, and it was as if he was curling in on himself and disappearing bit by bit. His scream became higher pitched; a keening, animal sound.</p><p>And then Ron was gone.</p><p>Where his body had been, there was now a huddled ball of fur. Harry squinted. Despite the umbrella, rain had spattered his glasses and he could barely make out the shape in front of him.</p><p>McGonagall ushered a ball of light closer. Everyone seemed to be holding their breath.</p><p>The ball of fur moved. It stood, shakily, like a newborn fawn. But it wasn't a fawn. It was a big, striped, ginger tomcat.</p><p>The cat stood with all its short fur on end. Its tail swished angrily back and forth. It was fast becoming soaked. The spots of rain darkened areas across its back. Its ears were slicked into its head, pointed directly backwards. It had bright, gleaming blue eyes like two studded sapphires. It was baring its teeth and hissing quietly.</p><p>"Oh my..." McGonagall said. The cat eyed her warily. She untucked a handkerchief and dabbed her eyes. "To think. Oh I've rarely been more proud."</p><p>One second later, there were two cats, one an older grey tabby. The cat that was McGonagall's Animagus form padded over to Ron. As it approached he hissed louder and flattened himself to the ground. The grey tabby sat a little ways away and chirped at him. She blinked and started to wash her paw. This seemed to relax the ginger tomcat some, and his ears pricked up, as if curious. He stood up again and tentatively, clumsily, walked over to McGonagall. She purred and meowed again. Ron - it was strange to think of this cat as Ron - sat in front of her and the pair appeared to have what looked like a short conversation. It was, after all these years in the wizarding world, still one of the odder things Harry had ever seen.</p><p>McGonagall politely sauntered off before returned to her usual form. She brushed down her robes and adjusted her hat.</p><p>"Tang? It seems Weasley here has been quite successful. He is, however, more... shall we say... of a feline's mind than a human's at the moment. I had the same issue when I was young. Dumbledore had to stop me from eating a mouse more than once. He will adjust. To think that Ronald Weasley would follow in my footsteps... well, it's quite something, isn't it?"</p><p>Harry noticed she seemed somewhat overcome. And - thankfully - quite distracted. Tang turned towards her and as she did so Harry took a couple of steps and casually bent and to pick up the map that he hoped no-one else noticed had been sitting underneath Ron's transformed form. He quickly returned to where he'd been standing.</p><p>Just then, he felt a warmth against his leg. He looked down and there was the ginger tomcat pressed against his calf. It had followed him. Those piercing blue eyes stared up at him. He resisted the urge to bend down and pet him. <em>Would that be weird?</em></p><p>Professor Tang noticed and chuckled. "Doesn't like the rain, I expect."</p><p>"He recognises you, I rather think," McGonagall added. Just then, another girl that Harry didn't recognise dropped to the ground in a dead faint. The two professors rushed off.</p><p>Unfortunately, this left Harry and the cat that was Ron exposed to the pounding rain once more. Harry didn't even have his robes to protect him he realised - he'd left them in Collins' classroom.</p><p>
  <em>"Impervius!"</em>
</p><p>Malfoy strode over, putting his wand away.</p><p>"Thanks," Harry said. The rain seemed to bounce off him now, leaving a small radius of dryness that the tomcat at his feet did his best to stay within by standing on Harry's feet. It was very cold, still, he noticed. He shivered and hugged his arms.</p><p>"No problem."</p><p>"Do you feel any different?"</p><p>Malfoy shook his head. "Nothing yet."</p><p>"You look like a drowned rat. Maybe that's your Animagus?"</p><p>"Ha ha. Very funny. Here I was being nice."</p><p>"It's kind of... amazing, isn't it?"</p><p>"Yeah..."</p><p>Malfoy crouched down to peer at Ron more closely. The cat flinched briefly, then stretched his neck out towards him and sniffed curiously. Malfoy reached out a hand to let Ron smell the back of his knuckles.</p><p>Harry, having had quite enough of the cold, used his amulet to cast a warming charm on the area around him. He thought too late, that maybe he shouldn't have in case it interfered with anything, but then Malfoy had already cast a spell so surely a little warmth was fine?</p><p>In any case, it felt wonderful. And, at the wash of heat, Ron broke into a happy purr. He began winding in and out of Harry's legs. Harry noticed the braided cord of Ron's own amulet remained around his neck, fitting a little loosely but very much playing the part of a cat's collar. He smirked to himself. <em>OK so I'm never going to see that in the same way again.</em></p><p>"Do you think he'll be pleased with this form? It is a little.... diminutive?" Malfoy said.</p><p>"Cute though," Harry said, still thinking of the collar.</p><p>Malfoy laughed. "Oh yes. Very."</p><p>Ron sat at Harry's feet, looking at Malfoy. He batted at the blonde's hand with two small taps of his paw. Then, he pressed his head against his fingers, rubbing insistently.</p><p>"Uhh... I think he wants you to stroke him," Harry said.</p><p>"If you remember this later, Weasley, I think I may be signing my own death warrant here," Malfoy remarked. But, nevertheless, he reached forward and patted the cat. Ron pushed his head up into Malfoy's palm, purring all the more and letting him run his hand all the way to his tail.</p><p>Harry smiled as Malfoy looked up at him incredulously. And Malfoy smiled back, ruefully.</p><p><em>So here's a perfectly normal scenario</em>, a voice from the depths of Harry's head noted. <em>Just Draco Malfoy - previously sworn enemy, now... now... something else? - stroking the cat that was, up until a few minutes ago, your best friend.</em></p><p>Harry had spent quite some years in perpetual puzzlement at the wizarding world, but this really took the cake. Things were changing so fast it was making his head spin.</p><p>Just then, a crack of thunder disturbed their peaceful bubble. Ron went from a purring cat to a terrified bolt of orange fur in a second. He screeched, leapt into the air and bolted towards the distant dark trees of the Forbidden Forest.</p><p>Unthinking, Harry dashed after him. He could hear Malfoy shouting his name behind him, but with a burst of speed that showed his many years of Quidditch training (and running from Dark wizards), he was soon outside the circle of light afforded by McGonagall's magic and was crashing through the shrubs at the edge of the forest.</p><p>"Ron!" he called. He whipped around desperately. Imposing tree trunks, gnarled roots, slimy mud and rotting leaves. No cat in sight. He thought of the map in his pocket, but - no, it didn't extend into the forest. He tried not to think of all the creatures that he knew lurked amongst these trees. Creatures that would have a cat for a snack. Giant spiders for one.</p><p>
  <em>"Lumos."</em>
</p><p>He paused to listen. There. A sound to his left. He caught sight of orange fur dashing past. He chased after it.</p><p>"Ron - wait!"</p><p>He tried to cast a hovering charm but missed. He tried '<em>Accio</em>' but that didn't work either. Eventually, he managed to dive and catch hold of Ron's back leg. Except, of course, Ron immediately bent and clawed at his hand. He bit with needle-like teeth and scratched as if his life depended on it. Harry let go with a yelp and Ron bolted into an opening underneath a knot of tree roots. His blue eyes glowed in the darkness as he huddled there, realising he was trapped and prepared to lash out if Harry came any closer.</p><p>Harry winced as he saw the state of his bloodied hand. He cast a couple of quick healing spells and knelt at the entrance to Ron's hiding place, wondering what to do. Around them, rain pattered through the branches that partly sheltered them from the storm.</p><p>"Ron. Think. You've got to think like a human again, OK? Come on," he coaxed, trying to sound soothing.</p><p>Ron hissed.</p><p>"It's Harry. Come on. You remember me," Harry continued, hoping what he was saying was true. It wasn't unheard of for people to get stuck forever in their Animagus form, after all.</p><p>"You've got to change back, Ron. It's not safe here. We have to get back to the castle. Err... think human stuff. Think about your mum. Your home. The Burrow, remember?"</p><p>He descended into muttering soothing clicks and other noises as he ever so slowly reached towards the cat. Eventually, Ron let him touch his head. His hackles relaxed a little at the touch. Harry pulled back, slowly again, and Ron - not wanting to lose that warmth - edged out of the hole. He meowed, disgruntled, as a large droplet of rain plopped onto his head and nearly retreated again, but Harry kept encouraging him. And as Ron emerged, he started to grow, bigger and bigger. At first Harry thought he was turning into a tiger or something, but with a snap as if his vision had suddenly refocused, there was Ron's face. His freckled, bemused, human face. He was on his hands and knees over Harry, who was kneeling in the mud.</p><p>"Err, what?" the redhead said, or more like squeaked. He coughed.</p><p>"Ron!" Harry said, happily. He pulled him into his lap in a tight hug. Ron spluttered as he lost his balance.</p><p>"'Ere, Harry! Careful! Merlin, what happened?"</p><p>"You turned into a ruddy cat!" Harry said. For some reason he couldn't bring himself to let go. Ron was back. Solid. Human. He wasn't a cat. He was OK.</p><p>"BLOODY HELL! REALLY?" Ron yelled.</p><p>Harry then <em>did loosen</em> his grip a bit as -admittedly - his ear was ringing. His face was inches from Ron's. Ron seemed to be scanning his features as if searching for a hint of insincerity.</p><p>"Fuckin' hell. I did, didn't I? I sorta remember actually... my Animagus is a cat? That's... err..."</p><p>Harry gripped his face with both hands.</p><p>"Ron, that's the most amazing thing I've ever bloody seen. You're amazing!"</p><p>Ron's face lit up.</p><p>"Really?"</p><p>"Obviously! You got your Animagus!"</p><p>"Well. Uh. <em>Yeah</em>. I did, didn't I?"</p><p>"Hell yeah!"</p><p>And Harry didn't know quite why he did it, but it seemed like the right thing to do. Or maybe he wasn't thinking at all. Or maybe he was overflowing with something... energy... a fire that made his blood burn in his veins and flood his whole body with warmth.</p><p>He leaned forward and planted a big, clumsy, happy kiss, right on Ron's unsuspecting lips.</p><p>He pulled back.</p><p>"You're bloody amazing, you know that?" he said, grinning like an idiot.</p><p>And Ron grinned back like it was the most natural thing in the world. And they were both beaming at one another. And Harry felt like he was flying.</p><p>And, hidden from view, a figure slipped away from behind a tree. Draco Malfoy ran back towards the castle; his heart in his throat.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0021"><h2>21. Return to the Astronomy Tower</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>McGonagall was already striding in their direction as Harry and Ron emerged from the Forbidden Forest.</p><p>"Oh thank goodness. Look at you - the pair of you are quite a state," she noted.</p><p>It was true. They were covered in mud and absolutely soaked through. They looked at each other as if seeing themselves for the first time and burst into uncontrollable giggles. Harry nudged his arm against Ron's and he gave him a little shove back, the contact lingering. They pulled themselves together as the Headmistress waited on the cessation of their antics. Around them, the rain was starting to abate.</p><p>"Mister Weasley, I congratulate you on achieving your Animagus. I will contact the Ministry to get your registration paperwork sent through in the morning. For now, you are the only one who has managed this feat. And a most excellent form, to boot."</p><p>"Uh. Thanks," Ron said, blushing.</p><p>She gestured behind her. "Everyone else has returned to the castle as the crucial window of the storm has now passed. It seems Lesley had simply not eaten dinner and fell faint from hunger. Still. It may be we see a few more join you in accomplishing their Animagus, but I don't think it likely tonight. It took myself some months of hard work to achieve. You are something of a... prodigy."</p><p>Harry elbowed Ron again.</p><p>"Wow, Ron - you beat McGonagall!"</p><p>"Quite," the witch said, smiling. "Now I think it best you both return to your dormitory before you catch colds. Goodnight gentlemen."</p><p>They headed inside as, behind them, McGonagall flicked her wand and vanished the balls of light around the empty field.</p><p>"Wonder where Malfoy went?" Harry said as they pushed open the door to the castle.</p><p>Ron coughed.</p><p>"Err. Dunno, mate."</p><p>"The Den, do you think?"</p><p>"Guess so."</p><p>Harry eyed him. They climbed the Grand Staircase, hopping habitually over the trick step.</p><p>"I... it's weird, but um. We actually talked in Collins' classroom earlier." <em>Among other things...</em></p><p>Ron gulped.</p><p>"'Bout what?" he said, hoarsely.</p><p>"Uh. Well, turns out he's been taking Muggle Studies. They made him take it as, like, a condition of his return or something. But he's also been helping Collins and Trelawney with their weird extra classes. He's been to loads of them. <em>All</em> of them."</p><p>Ron looked genuinely surprised. He laughed.</p><p>"Bet he hates that."</p><p>"Think he's... enjoying it actually. He said he meant what he said. About calling Hermione - you know."</p><p>"Huh... guess that's why he's lurking around the Muggle Studies classroom so often. Hang on. So you really had a <em>normal</em> conversation with Malfoy? Draco Malfoy. And Harry Potter. Talking."</p><p>"I know. I mean... you did too, right? In the boys' bathroom?"</p><p>"Oh. Yeah. Yeah we talked. For a bit."</p><p>
  <em>For hours you mean. You were gone hours, mate... then again, I can hardly judge...</em>
</p><p>Harry thought for a minute, and figured it wouldn't hurt to tell Ron the other little snippet of information he had been holding onto. He didn't need to know <em>when</em> he'd learned about it.</p><p>"He's also been helping Professor Tang with making the potion for Zabini. It's weird. He's being kind of... what's the word? Constructive? Or uh... nice... instead of..."</p><p>"Being a prick?"</p><p>Harry shook his head. "No. I mean, you remember the Three Broomsticks. He's still, err, a prick. Just... seems like he's actually trying, you know?"</p><p>"Yeah. I know what you mean. Actually, Harry, Malfoy told me-"</p><p>"Password? My you boys are a filthy. Please don't get anything on my frame."</p><p>They looked up at Vance's austere expression. It was rather ruined by the lollipop sticking out the side of her mouth.</p><p>"<em>Lagopus</em>," they chorused.</p><p>They entered through the portrait and were pleased to find the Den almost entirely empty except for-</p><p>"Hermione!"</p><p>Startled, she looked up from her book. On the other end of the sofa, his legs intertwined with hers, sat Anthony Goldstein, also holding a book. He nodded at them a little blankly and then, as if he couldn't tear himself away, he returned to reading.</p><p>Hermione quickly tucked her book down the side of the couch and untangled herself. Harry was pleased to see it was one of the pink-covered ones he'd got her for Christmas.</p><p>"'Mione! You'll never guess what?" Ron said, grinning.</p><p>She looked at Harry.</p><p>"Has something happened? You are <em>covered</em> in mud, you know."</p><p>Ron bounced on his heels.</p><p>"So there was the storm tonight and... actually. Wonder if I can just show you."</p><p>"Is that a good idea?" Harry started to ask, but Ron was already shrinking. In remarkably short order, there was that same tomcat sitting in his place. It blinked. Smugly, somehow.</p><p>Hermione clapped her hands to her mouth and squeaked in glee.</p><p>"Oh <em>Ron.</em> That's amazing! Just like Crookshanks!"</p><p>"Hey! He is not!" Harry protested. Ron the cat meowed loudly.</p><p>Hermione, realising that probably wasn't what Ron wanted to hear, followed on to say, "I suppose not in fact. They looking nothing alike. Ron has short fur. And stripes. No, nothing alike. But Ron I knew you were taking the classes but I didn't think you would manage it this soon!"</p><p>"He was the only one," Harry said proudly. Ron chirruped and rubbed against his calf. Then, as if experimenting, he crouched and leapt up onto the back of the sofa. It was <em>almost</em> graceful.</p><p>"Congratulations, Weasley," Goldstein said, seeing as Ron was now level with his head.</p><p>Ron sniffed and turned to leap onto Harry's shoulder. He settled around his neck like a particularly heavy - but warm - scarf. It was sort of like what Severina would do. Perhaps that was where he got the idea. Harry reached up and patted his head awkwardly. Ron's belly rumbled as he broke into a purr.</p><p>"It's marvellous," Hermione said. "I've read that the Animagus spell is one of the most difficult to complete in the world. Well done, Ron. He can understand me, can't he?"</p><p>"He might be a bit... um... cat-brained at the minute. McGonagall said he'd get better at being more... human. With practice."</p><p>"Oh how <em>strange</em>. Well, congratulations all the same."</p><p>Harry yawned. Ron's claws were digging into his shoulder, not painfully exactly, but it was hardly comfortable. He said goodnight and carried Ron up the stairs to the dorm. Once they'd arrived, Ron immediately jumped down onto Harry's bed, curled into a ball and fell asleep.</p><p>"Where did you find a cat, Harry?" Neville asked from his bed.</p><p>"It's Ron. Got his Animagus." Harry poked the sleeping cat. "You just going to stay like that, then?"</p><p>Neville boggled.</p><p>"It's <em>Ron. Wow!"</em></p><p>"What's happ'nin'?" Seamus said, emerging from the washroom in his pyjamas.</p><p>"Ron's a cat!" Neville exclaimed.</p><p>Seamus trotted over and threw a questioning look at Harry, who shrugged.</p><p>"It's true."</p><p>Leaving the rest of the ex-Gryffindor boys to stare at the sleeping ginger tom that had once been their roommate, Harry went off to shower and get ready for bed. The tiredness was seeping into his bones, but his mind buzzed with thoughts of the day's events. Of Ron. Of Malfoy.</p><p>Bloody hell. Malfoy.</p><p>
  <em>Your best friend turns into a cat and you're still thinking about that git?</em>
</p><p>And another thought:</p><p>
  <em>I kissed Ron.</em>
</p><p>And a third thought:</p><p>
  <em>And it was brilliant.</em>
</p><p>He didn't need a fourth thought to tell him what that meant.</p><p>Harry returned to the dorm in a daze to find everyone had retired for the night. Ron, still a cat, was sleeping in a ball on one of Harry's pillows. He stirred lightly as Harry got under the covers. Harry smiled as he yawned, stretched his paws and went right back to sleep.</p><p>
  <em>At least some things haven't changed. Guess we'll uh... talk in the morning...</em>
</p><p>He flicked his wand at the light, pulled the curtain shut and lay down.</p><p>Hours later, he sat up. Sleep had remained elusive, despite how knackered his body felt. His mind was still playing and replaying every thought, every word, every touch...</p><p>"<em>Lumos</em>," he whispered. He shoved his glasses on and grabbed the map from where he'd put it on his bedside table.</p><p>
  <em>"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."</em>
</p><p>Inky black lines spread across the worn parchment. He scanned the corridors and classrooms idly. With the reconstruction of the castle the map was a little outdated, so the Den was labelled as a classroom and the dorms were a mess of walls and corridors and storage rooms that had been rearranged to accommodate the eighth years. It made it harder to see who was actually in the Den, but he could see well enough to find that Theodore Nott was alone in his room.</p><p>He searched through Malfoy's known haunts - the dungeons, the Muggle Studies classroom, the showroom. Nothing. But then, Malfoy was often wandering in strange corners of the castle. Having kept his stalking activities largely to daytime hours, Harry wondered how often Malfoy would be out of the dorms in the middle of the night. And why. How had he burned his hand? That was something he still didn't understand.</p><p>Curiosity piqued, he brought the map to his face and peered at the black dots. There were a few prefects patrolling. Then - there. Malfoy was at the bottom of the stairs that had once led up to the Astronomy Tower.</p><p>
  <em>What is he doing there?</em>
</p><p>It was surely the last place the ex-Slytherin would want to be. It was where Dumbledore had died that fateful night, after all. It was hardly a place filled with good memories. For either of them.</p><p>Just then, Malfoy's dot flickered. Harry rubbed his eyes, figuring it was just his own tiredness playing tricks on his vision. But no. It disappeared again. For a second, and then it was back.</p><p>He looked over the rest of the map, but everything else seemed to be fine. It was just Malfoy's dot flicking in and out of existence.</p><p>Then it hit him.</p><p>"Ron!" he whispered urgently.</p><p>The cat beside him raised its head.</p><p>"For fuck's sake... please turn back into a human, Ron. It's important!"</p><p>The cat blinked and for a minute Harry considered just leaving without him, but then a second later there was Ron sitting on his pillow, looking confused. His robes were still crusted with mud.</p><p>"What's up?" he asked.</p><p>Harry scrabbled out of the bed, rounded the four-poster frame and yanked Ron to his feet.</p><p>"We've got to hurry. Astronomy Tower. I'll explain on the way."</p><p>As they ran out of the dorm and down the stairs, Harry told Ron what he'd seen.</p><p>"But if the dot's disappearing, what does it mean? That he's going somewhere? Like the Vanishing Cabinets? Godric, Harry, I know he's been acting... different, but what if it's just that? An act? And he's letting a whole pile of Death Eaters into the castle right now?"</p><p>Harry shook his head. They were sprinting towards the tower. "He's not. It's just... the map shows lots of things right? People, ghosts, even Animagi and pets. But it doesn't show dead people. Ghosts, yeah, but not... see? Just wish we could Apparate. <em>Fuck!</em>"</p><p>He put on a burst of speed and Ron followed suit. The pair of them pelted down the corridors.</p><p>"What? You think Malfoy's d-dead?" Ron shouted.</p><p>"No. But I think he's hurt. Bad. That's why his dot keeps disappearing. He's... dying."</p><p>"Shit!"</p><p>Ron pulled ahead as they skittered around a corner. In front of them lay the cordoned off section of the destroyed Astronomy Tower. An avalanche of rubble seemed to have fallen down from what remained of the ceiling, letting moonlight stream in over the jagged scene. And Malfoy - his blonde hair marking him unmistakably as the ex-Slytherin - was pinned under the rocks. He was flat on his back. One arm lay outstretched. His face was a bluish-white, and he had blood on his lips. He was unconscious.</p><p>"Malfoy!" Ron yelled and ran to his side. He slid down on his knees. "Harry! He's not breathing. Fuck, fuck - what do we do?"</p><p>Harry cast a diagnostic spell.</p><p>"Fuck. Ron, that rock is crushing his ribs. He's breathing, but only just. His leg's badly broken. He's bleeding internally."</p><p>"We need to get him out of there!"</p><p>"No!" Harry yelled. "If we move the rocks, he might bleed out - he's cut deep on his side."</p><p>Ron took out his wand. "There's no time. We don't have a choice," he said, looking grim.</p><p>Harry quickly realised he was right. If they didn't move him, the crushed parts of his body would produce more damaging substances internally that, once released, would flood his organs.</p><p>"You lift the rocks and I'll get Malfoy out. We have to make sure we move him as little as possible. If he starts bleeding, we need to apply pressure to the wounds."</p><p>"Right!"</p><p>Ron lifted his arms and the rocks began to shift. They were heavy, heavier than he'd expected. He grunted and focused all his energy on the task. The rocks quivered, then lifted. Harry quickly used a hover charm to float Draco Malfoy's unconscious body towards him. He looked so pale, and his leg was bent at an unnatural angle. Worst of all, his chest was sickeningly caved in from the weight of the boulder that had been crushing him.</p><p>Harry leaned over and felt the tiniest wisp of a breath tickle his cheek. <em>Thank fuck...</em></p><p>"He's breathing. Just. Come on, help me get him to the hospital wing."</p><p>The pair of them floated Malfoy down the corridor. Ron had both hands pressed onto the deep gash in Malfoy's side. He was pale and seemed transfixed by keeping the blood from pooling out from between his fingers. After what felt like far too long, they finally reached the double door of the hospital wing.</p><p>"Let's hope Pomfrey's around," Ron said.</p><p>"She will be. I'll get her," Harry replied. "We need to get him onto a bed."</p><p>They carefully lifted Malfoy, who was buoyant like a balloon, onto the nearest bed. Harry ran to the door adjacent to Pomfrey's office and banged on it, hard.</p><p>The Healer emerged moments later wearing a night robe with her hair pleated down her back. She took in the scene and briskly marched to Malfoy's side.</p><p>"Potter? What happened?" she asked, pulling back his eyelids and running glowing hands over his body to assess the damage. She vanished his robes and shirt.</p><p>"Astronomy corridor. Ceiling fell in. He's got crush injuries, internal bleeding and his leg's broken in two places. He's barely breathing."</p><p>"I'm surprised he is alive at all. Potter I will need your assistance. Top shelf. Healing potions. Skele-Gro. Pain-relief." She rattled off a list of half a dozen further potions, which Harry pulled down from the shelves and handed to her. She had Ron wash the blood from his hands, then gently hold Malfoy's head to tip it back so she could pour the potions down his throat.</p><p>"That should take care of the internal injuries."</p><p>Harry cleaned the wound on his side, which was already starting to shrink. He cast some additional charms to hurry it along, not caring that such fast healing would likely leave a scar. Better that than the sight of more of Malfoy's blood soaking into the sheets.</p><p>"We must set the bones or they will fuse incorrectly. Please can you hold his shoulders, yes, like that. He may wake once we do this. It is an extremely painful procedure that those potions won't fully mask."</p><p>Harry and Ron stood on either side of Malfoy, each of them holding a shoulder down. Pomfrey chanted a long and complex spell and they heard - and saw - the terrible cracking of bones in Malfoy's chest and leg as she set them in place.</p><p>Malfoy gasped, his eyes flying open. But it was as if he couldn't see them. His breath rattled and more blood bubbled out from between his teeth. His arms shot up and clutched at Harry and Ron as he strained against their weight.</p><p>"Something's wrong!" Ron yelled, looking at Harry.</p><p>"It's fine," Harry said, as much to himself as to Ron. "Pomfrey knows what she's doing."</p><p>"I do," the witch added, as bandages wrapped snake-like around his middle. A thin bedsheet slithered up to settle under his armpits.</p><p>She put her wand in the belt of her robe and feeling along Malfoy's body with her fingers. "Yes, everything seems to be aligned. Potter, you did an excellent job in manoeuvring him here without further dislodging his ribcage. He had already pierced a lung. Some of his ribs were pulverised. He needs rest. Monitoring. Pain-relief every thirty minutes. The potions will take some hours to fully take effect. And you well know how uncomfortable Skele-Gro can be. This will not be a pleasant night for the boy. He will need time to recover beyond it."</p><p>"But he'll live, right?" Ron asked.</p><p>"Of course. Thanks to the both of you."</p><p>"I'll monitor him, Madam Pomfrey. You can trust me," Harry said. He cast another round of numbing charms, hoping they would help. Malfoy's unseeing eyes closed and he fell back into unconsciousness.</p><p>She looked proud, but drained. The bone-setting spell had clearly been a powerful one and it had taken its toll. She nodded. "Very well. Please fetch me if anything unusual occurs. If he wakes, he is not to move, eat or drink anything until I say so."</p><p>Ron barely looked up as she left. Harry went over to the basins along one wall and filled a ceramic dish with water from the tap. He grabbed a clean rag and returned to the bed, where he set the things on the bedside table. Then, he waved at a couple of chairs and they dutifully floated over on either side of the bed. He sat down - Ron did, too - and began, gently, to wipe the blood from Malfoy's lips.</p><p>"He'd be dead, Harry. There's no way he'd be alive if you hadn't seen him on the map and figured it out."</p><p>Harry didn't know what to say. His thoughts were swirling - it was too hard to catch one, identify it and reply. He dipped the rag in the water and watched the red stain the transparent surface. The yellow lamplight cast death-like shadows across Malfoy's pallid, drawn face.</p><p>"I- I know we've... well, there's not a pleasant way of saying it really, but we've wanted him hurt. <em>I've</em> wanted him hurt," Ron continued. "You know, before. But..."</p><p>"Not now."</p><p>"Yeah. Turns out I wouldn't wish 'being crushed to death' on my worst enemy."</p><p>"Is he our worst enemy, Ron?" Harry asked, half to himself as well as his friend. "You saw what it was like for him at the manor. I- I think he was trapped. In a way. He grew up with all that. With his father. With Voldemort. Fed stories, drinking their poisonous lies. He wasn't a monster. He was just a kid."</p><p>Ron nodded. He ran his hand over Malfoy's arm absently.</p><p>After a few seconds, he said, "I was going to tell you. Earlier. I know why Malfoy was at the Astronomy Tower tonight. When we talked, um, before, he told me about what he's been doing. And you were saying about Zabini and the Muggle Studies and the extra classes and... well, the idiot's had a busy year, I guess." He laughed.</p><p>Malfoy moaned, but didn't wake. Harry waited to let his heartbeat settle again. It was drumming so hard it seemed to be bringing waves of nausea with it. Or maybe that was the image of Malfoy's ribs cracking into place.</p><p>"What did he tell you?" he asked.</p><p>Ron's lip twitched.</p><p>"That he's been trying to repair the castle. The bits the team this summer missed or didn't finish. He's been doing a pretty good job of it, so he said. The idiot," he repeated. "He must've saved the Astronomy Tower for last. I can guess why. Spent ages trying to fix the Room of Requirement, but the Fiendfyre is <em>still</em> burning. That's how he burned-"</p><p>"-his hand," Harry finished, wonderingly. He picked up the limp hand from the bedsheet and turned it over to trace his finger over the gossamer-thin scarring.</p><p>
  <em>Why so many secrets, Malfoy?</em>
</p><p>Just then, as if awakened by Harry's touch, Malfoy groaned again and raised both hands, fingers clenching and unclenching as if reaching out to someone, something, anything... Harry instinctively slipped his hand into Malfoy's, holding it tightly. On the other side of the bed, Ron did so as well. Malfoy, moving now, his foot sliding up and down under the sheet, his head tossing back and forth, his lips moving as he muttered pained gasps beneath his breath, held onto them both, his grip white-knuckled and desperate.</p><p>"Should we get Pomfrey?" Ron asked, sounding a little panicked.</p><p>"No," Harry said. "I've got it." He cast a few more numbing charms and a relaxant to soothe Malfoy back to unconsciousness. It seemed to work, though his grip on both their hands hardly lessened.</p><p>He sat back in relief. Waves of tiredness washed over him, and he half-fell into a daze as the silent hours of the night drifted passed. Every once in a while Ron would reach over to shake him awake and he'd cast more pain-relief spells on Malfoy's thankfully sleeping form. Ron kept vigil all night. He barely looked up from Malfoy's face.</p><p>As the pale winter sun finally dawned, Harry rubbed his eyes under his glasses with two pinched fingers. He yawned.</p><p>"How is the patient doing?" Madam Pomfrey's voice startled them both. She appeared beside them, now in her customary starched uniform.</p><p>Harry opened his mouth to answer, but before he could a quiet, rasping reply came from Malfoy's own lips, though his eyes remained closed.</p><p>"Feels like I've been sat on by a giant," he said. He coughed, frowned and winced. "And then run over by the Hogwarts Express. What the fuck happened?"</p><p>"You were in a nasty accident Mister Malfoy. If it weren't for Potter and Weasley here you would not be with us now," Pomfrey replied as she cast a round of monitoring spells.</p><p>Malfoy's eyes flew open. He looked from left to right, his grey eyes blinking disbelievingly.</p><p>"Wotcher, Malfoy," Ron said, awkwardly.</p><p>Harry just nodded. Malfoy seemed not to have noticed he was holding their hands. Or that his grip had become vice-like since wakening. Harry, for some reason, didn't feel inclined to free his hand, though he <em>was</em> starting to lose the feeling in his fingers.</p><p>"W-what?"</p><p>"I'm sure the pair of you can explain. In the meantime, I'm happy to say you're healing nicely. Your injuries will need more time of course - at least another day in the hospital wing, and a week or two on crutches I should think. No flying, though I don't have to tell <em>you</em> that. And I would ask for a pass on your classes, too. You need to rest. Recover."</p><p>Madam Pomfrey finished casting her spells. She also inflated his pillow so Malfoy was half sitting up and nestled in a large white cloud. Then, she went to the dungeons to request Tang begin brewing additional stocks of healing potions that Malfoy would need to take over the next few days. Before she left, Ron asked if they could get the House Elves to bring breakfast to them, and she agreed, though she warned that Malfoy shouldn't eat too much.</p><p>Once she'd left, Malfoy sighed. Carefully.</p><p>"So... it seems you've saved my life. Again. I should thank you."</p><p>Ron's eye twinkled. "You might not want to after you see the state of your face. Shame."</p><p>"<em>What?</em>" Malfoy went to raise his hands to his face and only then realised what he'd been holding onto. He let go nonchalantly and wiped his hands on his chest. He turned to Harry. "What's he talking about?"</p><p>"He's messing with you," Harry said, waving the pins and needles out of his fingers. "You're as handsome as always."</p><p>
  <em>Whoops.</em>
</p><p>Malfoy smirked, the old expression sliding familiarly into place. "As always, Potter? Well, glad you noticed."</p><p>"Git," Ron said, laughing.</p><p>Harry, wishing the ground would open up and swallow him (not as unlikely in Hogwarts as in other places), decided to order breakfast. He called for Winky. The shy, jittery House Elf popped into the room in an instant, gave a deep bow and reappeared moments later with their request - a tray piled high with slices of toast, with pots of butter and blackcurrant jam and a jug of apple juice.</p><p>"Bon apet. Tit!" she squeaked, and disappeared with a <em>crack</em>.</p><p>"Bon a what?" Ron said, half choking on a mouthful of toast. Malfoy snorted.</p><p>"Argh. Don't make me laugh, Weasley. It's like getting stabbed in the side."</p><p>"You sorta were stabbed in the side."</p><p>"Really? What happened?"</p><p>They explained, and Malfoy - already pale - whitened further as he heard the extent of his injuries. He went to raise the sheets, but Harry stopped him.</p><p>"Err. Better not. For now. You're all bandages anyway."</p><p>"At least I will easily fulfil Pomfrey's request not to overeat. I think after hearing that I'm... quite done," Malfoy replied. He set his saucer on the bedside table and brushed invisible crumbs from his front. Ron reached over and nabbed the half slice of toast remaining on the plate.</p><p>"Do you remember anything?" Harry asked.</p><p>Malfoy shrugged. "Some. After the storm. I was... um, upset. Didn't get my Animagus right away and um. Yeah. I remember going to the Tower. I wanted to fix it. I was building up the walls and had made progress with the ceiling, but... it was heavy... and maybe doing so much magic after taking the Animagus potion was... unwise. Then - then it all went dark."</p><p>"Probably for the best you don't remember," Harry said. "It wasn't pretty."</p><p>"Hey, I thought you said I was always pretty."</p><p>"Handsome," Harry said.</p><p>"Same thing."</p><p>Ron finished his glass of juice with a gulp and set it down. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, looking thoughtful.</p><p>"Look. Err, Malfoy. Harry. I think um. I've been doing a lot of thinking, lately."</p><p>"Was it painful?" Malfoy quipped. Harry fought to keep his face straight.</p><p>"Shut up," Ron shot back, but the tension in his shoulders eased a little at the jab. He took a deep breath. "Um. I've kind of been all over the place since Hermione and I broke up and... I've been... I think I've been um. I don't know what I've been feeling exactly, but I'm not stupid. Malfoy, I'm warning you, not a word. And I think I've got, what was it 'Mione said once? A bit more emotional range, these days? Maybe I'm up to a tablespoon now, I guess?"</p><p>"Potter, what in Godric's name is he saying?" Malfoy faux-whispered.</p><p>It was all Harry could do to shake his head in reply. He was starting to form half an idea of what Ron was doing and the thought of it was making his stomach somersault. <em>Why here? Why now?</em></p><p>Ron frowned. His hands were twisting in his lap. His Adam's apple bobbed underneath the wooden amulet at his throat.</p><p>"Look. I can blame it on... emotions. Hormones. Heartbreak. Or um, something. But I'm not some passenger in my own head. I've made some pretty crazy decisions these last few weeks. Months. Choices I never thought I'd make in a million years. And they... they involve... you."</p><p>He was looking down when he said this, but he locked eyes, then. First with Harry. Then with Malfoy. His voice was shaky, but he carried on.</p><p>"Look, I dunno what they mean. If they mean anything. I just. I'm sure they don't mean anything to you guys. And I know I've been a massive git myself, sometimes. Plenty of times. And I don't want you to think I'm - Godric - <em>confessing</em>, to either of you. I think I've just been <em>using</em> you guys and maybe you've just been using me, I dunno. But I... guess, I've been using you to figure some stuff out about myself. Why it never worked out with any girls, even Hermione. And that I'm not broken... I mean, ever since the ball..."</p><p><em>Fuck</em>. Harry stared at Malfoy. His jaw was slack with astonishment.</p><p>"Yeah. I'm guessing you both remember that night. I do, too. So... cards on the table, right there. But then, you were drunk and I- I've made some moves sober that I'd never... Like... Malfoy, what happened between us, after? And again, in the boy's bathroom. And again, after that? That's not a one-off thing, right? Godric knows why it had to be you, but like I said - choices. And Harry, I know it was for the nightmares at first but, fuck... we've been sleeping together for months now. W-we kissed in the forest and I <em>liked it-"</em></p><p>Malfoy spoke over him. "You've been <em>sleeping together?!"</em></p><p>"Oh! N-no, not like <em>that</em>, I meant-" Ron started. But Harry didn't hear anything else. His ears were filled with the sound of rushing water. There wasn't enough air. He had to get out, he had to-</p><p>He stumbled to his feet and ran out of the hospital wing.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0022"><h2>22. Building Bridges</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Harry, where d'you- whoah!"</p><p>Ron nearly went flying over Harry's legs as he burst out of the hospital wing doors. As it was, he stumbled onto his hands and knees and winced as the impact jarred his wrists.</p><p>The moment Harry had escaped, he'd simply slid down to sit on the cold stone paving of the corridor and buried his head in his arms. Ron's appearance seconds later, he mused, should've been expected. He shook his head and helped the redhead into a seating position beside him.</p><p><em>'Heard a shout. Everything alright there, Potter?'</em> Malfoy's voice asked in his head, tentatively.</p><p><em>'Yes. Fine. Just... need a minute,'</em> Harry tried replying with a thought. He heard nothing further, so either Malfoy hadn't heard him, or didn't care to answer.</p><p>"So..." Ron said, nursing his wrists. Harry realised he'd left an uncomfortable silence - at least, uncomfortable outside his own head.</p><p>"Sorry," he said. "I kinda freaked out a bit for some reason."</p><p>Ron laughed.</p><p>"<em>I'm</em> the one who should be saying sorry, mate."</p><p>Harry nudged him with his shoulder. Ron nudged him back. He sighed.</p><p>"Harry... I- I'm not good with secrets, right? And, bloody hell, I basically tell you and 'Mione everything. It's been weird to not do that. But I didn't know <em>what</em> to tell you, exactly. That when I saw you and Malfoy k-kissing that night. I mean, I know I'd been drinking but I sobered up real quick seeing that. It made me <em>feel</em> like, I dunno. Like I was gonna explode or something. Like I was gonna burn up inside. I, uhh... I never told you, but after that when I went to the Owlery I err... bumped into Malfoy there. I was so angry. Still. But more than that... <em>Fuck.</em> Saying it out loud makes it real, you know?"</p><p>"You don't need to."</p><p>"No you don't understand, Harry. I jumped the guy. I don't know what came over me, but we were fighting and then-"</p><p>"Then you snogged. A lot. I think if it hadn't have been outside the Owlery you would've torn each other's clothes off, frankly."</p><p>Ron stuttered incoherently. Harry grimaced.</p><p>"I... I've not been entirely honest, either, Ron. I came to find you that day. I saw. Well, let's just say I saw most of it."</p><p>Harry snuck a look and to his amusement, despite his own pounding heart, he seemed to have shocked Ron into a slack-jawed stupor. He waited for his friend to gather himself.</p><p>"Shit. Harry. Uhh... OK, that's... you don't hate me?"</p><p>"<em>What?"</em></p><p>"I mean... it's not quite sleeping with the enemy but-"</p><p>Harry giggled. "It looked pretty close, to be honest. And I kissed him first, right? Or... he kissed me... I can't quite remember how <em>that</em> happened. Bit of haze, but looks like we all remember that night well enough... Ron, there's no way I'd ever judge you for liking other guys, even Malfoy, you know that right?"</p><p>"But Harry, that's just it. I feel like I just didn't know what I wanted after Hermione and me broke up and then I heard you yelling at night and... I can't believe I was so mad at that blonde git for taking advantage 'cause I've been doing the <em>same.</em> You were having nightmares and I was, um, questioning myself, I guess. And when I slept in your bed it was honestly just to help you, at first, but then... OK maybe that's not even true. I don't know what I was thinking, but no normal bloke just starts sleeping with their friend to help them with nightmares, do they? Like I should've just said 'take a sleeping potion', right? So maybe somewhere deep down I knew what I was doing... and I definitely knew that first night at the Burrow."</p><p>He pulled his knees into his chest, defensively. "I knew what I was doing, for <em>sure</em>, after that day between me and Malfoy. I was angry at him, though. Angry at myself. Ashamed, even though I <em>know</em> I shouldn't be and I definitely don't give a <em>fuck</em> if anyone else fancies blokes or whatever. But then you let me hold your hand and hold you while we slept and... it was so warm and n-nice and it just felt right and I guess I'm saying I liked it, Harry. I really liked it.</p><p>"It's been eating me up inside 'cause... I've been using you to figure my own shit out and you're not even gay and I know that's wrong. I'm so, so sorry."</p><p>Harry thought for a minute. Eventually, he turned to Ron. The frantic feeling had passed and now he felt strangely serene.</p><p>"I liked it, too," he began. Ron's head jerked up and he stared at him as he spoke. "I like sharing a bed with you. Holding onto you. Holding hands. I meant it when I kissed you in the forest. It wasn't just an act of the moment, or whatever. I meant every second. I- I got excited when I saw you and Malfoy together. Um. It was... fucking hell, Ron, it was <em>hot</em>.</p><p>"I don't know exactly <em>what's</em> going on between... between all of us, but I'm scared of it. Terrified, actually. I thought I wanted a girl like Ginny and you know, married, kids, all that. But I didn't. I don't. I don't know what I want, but I'm tired of my life being dictated by prophecies or Dark Lords or even Dumbledore or the press or the Ministry or fucking any of it. Look, I used to be a bloody Gryffindor and so did you and, and yeah I'm afraid, but that's never stopped me before so... oh bloody hell!"</p><p>And with that Harry leaned in and kissed him.</p><p>The burning, soaring feeling washed through him as Ron whimpered and immediately started kissing him back. It wasn't like the brief, bruising, happy kiss in the Forbidden Forest. This one was full of heat. Depth. Urgency. Hunger. Longing. It was the best kiss Harry had ever had.</p><p>Not wanting it to end, but feeling self-conscious that perhaps it should, he licked and nibbled Ron's lips, breaking their kiss into fragments, moment by moment, until they were left with their foreheads pressed together, breathing heavily.</p><p>"<em>Wow."</em></p><p>Harry grinned.</p><p>"Yeah. Wow," he agreed.</p><p>He pulled away and leaned back against the wall with his eyes closed. Shaking almost imperceptibly, he reached across towards Ron, feeling around until he found Ron's calloused warm hand. He laced their fingers together.</p><p>"What do we do now?" Ron asked, squeezing his fingers.</p><p>"I have no idea."</p><p>"Can we do that again?"</p><p>"Yeah."</p><p>And they did, because they could. And it was easier than picking apart feelings that neither of them could identify anyway. And it felt so, so good.</p><p>Eventually, Ron rested his head against Harry's shoulder and said, "We should get back to Malfoy. Bloody hell. What do we do about... Malfoy?"</p><p>Harry remembered the electric feeling of the simple act of running his fingertips over Malfoy's skin. The keen arousal the blonde had elicited with words and the lightest of touches alone. He remembered the sight of Malfoy and Ron together, too.</p><p>"It's not just us," he stated, matter-of-factly.</p><p>"Yeah?"</p><p>"Yeah."</p><p>They helped each other up. Harry became acutely aware that he was in thin pyjama trousers and a T-shirt.</p><p>
  <em>Snape in a dress. Snape in a dress. Snape in a dress.</em>
</p><p>It did not help when Ron bent and planted a kiss on his surprised lips.</p><p>"You looked worried," he said, as if that was all the explanation he needed.</p><p>"I'm trying to think, but my head's full of bees."</p><p>"Bet Pomfrey has a potion for that or something."</p><p>They pushed open the doors to the hospital wing, once more. Malfoy, who seemed to have been dozing in his propped-up position, snapped upright. His eyes were alert, piercing, if ringed with grey-blue shadows. They flicked to where Ron and and Harry's hands were intertwined. He gasped, the breath rattling in his healing lungs. One second later, he was sneering.</p><p>"Oh Potty and Weasel, found love at last have we? <em>So</em> happy for you. Just took my near-death to arouse your passions, was it? <em>So pleased</em> I could <em>help."</em></p><p>"Malfoy," Harry said, warningly. He tugged Ron forward and pulled his chair round to the same side. Malfoy studiously inspected a loose bit of fluff on the sheet.</p><p>"First off. Sorry I ran off there. I needed to get my head on straight."</p><p>"Straight?!" Malfoy guffawed. "Then I'd say you failed rather spectacularly then by the looks of things. When's the wedding? Am I invited? I'll have my best Death Eater robes pressed."</p><p>Harry laughed. It was hard to take Malfoy's snipes seriously when his body was tingling with a heady mix of arousal, relief and exhaustion.</p><p>Malfoy looked even more pissed off at this reaction. He turned to Ron.</p><p>"I suppose you're used to getting your siblings' leftovers, then? I imagine one Weasley's as good as the next."</p><p>Harry half expected Ron to take the bait, but Ron, too, was in an odd mood, and joined Harry in giggling at Malfoy's affronted face.</p><p>"Good one," he said.</p><p>There was a pause, and then Harry and Ron burst into giggles again.</p><p>"What in Merlin's name is wrong with you two?" Malfoy asked. His shoulders were up to his ears and he'd sunk into the giant pillow, brow furrowed and arms crossed. He huffed, looking away.</p><p>Harry bit his lip and tried get a hold of himself.</p><p>"Secondly. The uh... 'sleeping together' thing was a misunderstanding. So don't get any funny ideas about that. And thirdly," he moved on swiftly, "thirdly, you have some explaining to do. About the ball. About... well, you."</p><p>"Right. You want me to explain... me?"</p><p>"Uhh... yeah."</p><p>"Weasley, what on earth does Potter mean? He seems to have lost his senses."</p><p>"You have been acting kind of strange lately."</p><p>Malfoy gaped.</p><p>"<em>I've been acting strange."</em> He pointed at them both. "Pot. Kettle. Black."</p><p>"Fair point," Ron added.</p><p>"Just... everything, Malfoy. I don't get any of it. OK, well Zabini I get. She's your friend. You're good a potions. I get that. The Christmas ball - I mean, you came to me, right? Why? Then there's our, uh... what happened in the boys bathroom. The way you acted after blowing up the sink was... um. Odd. And I <em>know</em> what happened after between you and Ron. And about the Owlery. <em>And</em> after Charms that one time. Yeah. I know. The Muggle Studies thing threw me a bit, but I guess it makes sense. Weird, but yeah. The extra classes... Professor Collins. What we were doing in the classroom... Weird, again. Repairing the castle. Super weird. Then last night..."</p><p>Malfoy sighed.</p><p>"If I didn't know any better, I would say you two have been stalking me," he said.</p><p>Ron choked out a laugh. "In a manner of speaking..." he admitted, shrugging.</p><p>Harry turned to glare at him.</p><p>"What? We have. You especially - didn't tell me you knew about that time after Charms. Saw us on the map and figured- Oh. Oops."</p><p>"Map?" Malfoy said, arching an eyebrow. "Fine. I'll talk. But you have to tell me about this map. And for every question you ask, I get to ask one back. Deal?"</p><p>Harry and Ron looked at each other.</p><p>"Deal," they said, together.</p><p>It was unfortunate that right at that moment, Madam Pomfrey returned. She bustled in and, noticing Malfoy was awake, she marched right over to the trio and tutted at Ron and Harry (who had quickly detangled themselves from one another).</p><p>"Mister Malfoy here needs his rest. And you two do as well, by the looks of you. I will take care of him from now on. You can come and fetch him this evening to take him back to the Den, yes? I won't hear any arguments. Out!"</p><p>With that, they found themselves on the other side of the hospital wing door. Again.</p><p>"Battleaxe," Ron muttered. "Just when he was gonna spill the beans."</p><p>"She means well," Harry said. "What now?"</p><p>Ron's only reply was an enormous yawn. "I've been up all night, Har. So I don't know about you, but I'm thinking... bed."</p><p>The way he said that final word had blood rushing to interesting places that weren't necessarily helpful in thin trousers, on a cold Saturday morning, in a well-trafficked corridor.</p><p>
  <em>Snape in a dress. With bare feet. And a bonnet.</em>
</p><p>Interrupting his rather disturbing thought pattern, he once again heard Malfoy in his mind. <em>'Tonight, Potter. Tonight we talk. Have fun snogging Weasley.'</em></p><p><em>'Fuck off out my head, Malfoy. And yeah. See you tonight,'</em> Harry replied, blushing.</p><p>
  <em>'Don't forget about me.'</em>
</p><p>Harry felt the corner of his lip twitch. The voice had sounded not a little petulant.</p><p><em>'Not likely,'</em> he replied.</p><p>Ron and Harry made their way back to the dorm. It was early in the morning, but late enough that by the time they got back, everyone in their room had already gone down to breakfast.</p><p>"Thank fuck," Ron sighed. He fell flat on his back on Harry's bed.</p><p>"Hey! You're all muddy."</p><p>It was true. Ron's robes were filthy. He sat up and winked at Harry with a confidence that Harry suspected was put on.</p><p>"Guess I'd better go have a shower then."</p><p>Harry took his spot on the bed after Ron left for the washroom, and spent an agonising ten minutes trying not to picture what Ron's naked body looked like. He'd seen it. Once or twice. Or more times, over the years. You don't live in a dorm (or a tent) for an extended period of time and fail to see far more of your dormmates than you'd normally like to. But up until recently he hadn't thought of Ron in... that way.</p><p>When Ron emerged, red hair dark, wet and wavy, wearing a pair of loose cotton shorts and a tank top, Harry did his best not to bite his tongue. Ron went over to his bed, pulled the curtains closed and spelled them to stay shut if anyone tried to open them. He padded over the phoenix-emblazoned rug and sat next to Harry on his bed.</p><p>"Shall we?"</p><p>"Um. Yeah."</p><p>Harry scooted back and under the covers. Ron did the same. They turned to face one another.</p><p>"Wanna talk or?"</p><p>Ron yawned again. "I'm fucking knackered, Harry. I don't think I can string a sentence together to be honest."</p><p>"Right. Err." Harry sat up a little, closed and warded his own curtains, and put his glasses on the bedside table. He felt, then, Ron's arm reach across and pull him close. He let himself relax into the embrace. He could feel Ron's breath on his lips.</p><p>The kisses were slow. Unhurried. Both of them were half-addled with tiredness, so though Harry could feel the heat of his arousal it seemed like a distant thing. Ron's body was larger and softer than his own. His arms strong and enveloping. His own excitement apparent, pressed against Harry's thigh, but not insistent. Just there. His hips moving just so, moving their bodies as they kissed and rocked together, gently, until the flow of their movements tapered off into rhythmic, matched breaths and a deep, undisturbed sleep.</p><p>They didn't wake again until it was dark. Harry unwrapped himself from Ron's embrace and lit the fire. The clock on the wall said it was just after six. Dinner time. <em>Speaking of...</em> He went to kneel beside Severina's terrarium. She stared at him, unblinking.</p><p>"You missssed my dinner, yesssterday," she hissed, disapprovingly.</p><p>"Yes I know. Sorry. Stuff came up. I totally forgot. Here, I'll get you a treat for next time. Um. A live mouse. They've got them for the owls."</p><p>There was a pause. "Accssseptable."</p><p>Harry smirked. He opened the top of the box and dropped a dead pinkie mouse into Severina's waiting mouth. She snatched at it and slithered into a corner to slowly gulp it down.</p><p>Looking up Harry found Ron sat, staring at him. His eyelids were drooping, his pupils dilated.</p><p>"What?" Harry said. He walked over to the side of the bed and yelped as Ron pulled him down into a ferocious snogging session that was rather more like his encounters with Malfoy than the sweeter kisses he and Harry had shared. Harry did his best to keep up.</p><p>"That Parseltongue thing... it does strange things to me, you know."</p><p>"Thought you didn't like it," Harry laughed.</p><p>"I thought wrong."</p><p>"So you like it when I talk like this?" Harry asked, switching to Parseltongue. This earned him a lovebite that rivalled Ginny's best efforts.</p><p>He eventually wriggled free.</p><p>"Come on. Let's get something to eat."</p><p>They dressed and grinned at each other and snogged in between putting on each item of clothing, so it took them rather longer than usual to arrive at the Great Hall. Harry schooled his features into a slightly less jubilant expression before they walked through the doors. He wasn't quite ready to let the whole of Hogwarts into... into whatever was happening.</p><p>At the table, Ron sat with his whole leg pressed against Harry's, which drove to distraction to the point that he nearly buttered his hand instead of his bread roll.</p><p>"You two are quiet," Hermione noted. She was sat on the other side of Ron. "And I haven't seen you all day. Not since you turned into a cat, Ron."</p><p>"Been sleeping. Was up half the night in the storm, weren't we?" Ron said.</p><p>"No later than me and Anthony," she replied, looking puzzled.</p><p>"Anthony?" Neville asked, joining the conversation.</p><p>"'Hermione's dating Goldstein," Harry said quickly.</p><p>"Oh! That's ah... good for you!" Neville squeaked. Harry noticed his eyes slide to the end of the table where four of the ex-Slytherins sat. <em>There is something going on there</em>, he thought, filing that away as a question to potentially ask Malfoy later.</p><p>"Yes, it's going rather well, actually. Ron, are you seeing anyone, out of interest?"</p><p>Ron nearly choked on his Yorkshire pudding and Harry had to thump him on the back.</p><p>"Not uh. Not exactly," Ron wheezed, his eyes watering as he gulped down a goblet full of pumpkin juice.</p><p>"What does 'not exactly' mean?"</p><p>"Means none of your - uh. Look 'Mione, it means I haven't figured it out yet. But I'll tell you. When I do. Promise. 'Cause you're my mate and that's what mates do."</p><p>"Gossip about our love lives? I should hope we have better things to do, Ronald. Like study for our N.E.W.T.s."</p><p>With that, Hermione, thankfully, launched into explaining her forty-seven point study plan for the semester, during which Harry managed to slip a hand between them and curl his pinkie finger around Ron's.</p><p>They left Hermione with Neville, who had made the terrible mistake of asking her to help him plan his studies as well. They walked in contemplative silence up to the hospital wing.</p><p>Inside, Malfoy was looking considerably better. The sickly sheen of sweat had cleared and the skin around his eyes was no longer bruised-looking. He nodded at them as they entered.</p><p>Madam Pomfrey thrust a sack of clinking glass jars into Harry's arms.</p><p>"Healing potions. Malfoy, you will take these twice a day. Mister Weasley, will you help me get him out of bed."</p><p>Ron went over and Malfoy, looking disgusted at the whole affair, let him take his weight as he sat up. He was wrapped in bandages from the chest down. His leg was splinted in place, and also bandaged. The leg of his trousers had been cut at the knee.</p><p>Pomfrey handed him a shirt from the box of spares she kept for such occasions. Ron had to help Malfoy into it, given it was painful for him to move his arms too much, though Pomfrey clearly thought he was exaggerating.</p><p>"Chop chop," she said. "You're up to your eyeballs in anti-inflammatories, healing potions, numbing agents, you name it. The whole castle could fall on your head and you probably wouldn't feel a thing."</p><p>She handed Malfoy a pair of crutches. He balanced on them precariously, looking a bit green.</p><p>"Keep the weight off that foot until Thursday. Come and see me everyday to check in. You are not to attend classes for this week. I've notified your teachers and Professor Collins. Cleaning charms only until I say so, I'm afraid. Rest in bed. Walk a little each day to keep thing moving. Is that all clear?"</p><p>Malfoy winced and nodded.</p><p>"Good. Off you pop then."</p><p>Harry and Ron held the doors and helped Malfoy on the stairs all the way back to the Den. Despite what Pomfrey had said, it did seem like he was still hurting because by the time they reached the battle of Hogwarts landscape, he was breathing heavily and looked rather sick.</p><p>"You OK?" Harry asked, as Malfoy paused.</p><p>"Just peachy, Potter. Just peachy. Look, you two had better go ahead. It'll be odd if we go in together."</p><p>"It'll be even more odd if you just rock up looking like you've been hit by the Knight Bus on your own. Come on."</p><p>Ignoring Malfoy's protests, Harry and Ron ushered him through the portrait and into the bustling main room of Dumbledore Den. Immediately, they were surrounded by four very suspicious ex-Slytherins.</p><p>"Oh Draco, whatever <em>happened?</em> We haven't seen you all day and now you're an absolute <em>mess</em>. And with these two. Don't tell me they did this to you?" Pansy Parkinson rushed to his side, switching between gazing at him sympathetically and glaring at Harry and Ron.</p><p>"Pans. Leave off. They saved me after I made a stupid error, OK? I'll explain later. Right now, I've orders to get to my bed and stay there. I'd much prefer to rest first and give you the details in the morning. Theo, do you mind?"</p><p>Theodore Nott nodded. "I'll sleep at Daphne's. You can have the room for tonight. Hope you're alright, Draco. You look terrible."</p><p>"Why thank you."</p><p>Harry felt it best to keep his mouth shut as Malfoy's friends fussed over him for a few more minutes. Malfoy allowed them the attention, though Harry could see how much effort it was for him to even be standing upright right now. Ron, on the other hand, had no such qualms.</p><p>"Pomfrey said he needs to rest," he announced, shouldering his way in front of him. "So unless you want me to start dosing your breakfast with shrinking potions, I'd say that's enough."</p><p>Blair Zabini smirked. "Draco, you have... tamed this one? He seemed quite protective."</p><p>Malfoy glared. "I assure you, I have no control over his actions. But he is right. I'd like to rest."</p><p>The ex-Slytherins parted to let them through, and Harry, feeling incredibly self-conscious, followed Ron and Malfoy. The eighth years present watched them usher their known-to-be-arch-enemy up the stairs and into his dorm.</p><p>"Close it," Malfoy said, as they entered the unfamiliar room. It was smaller than their own, but the same décor of teal, grey and purple with shoots of flame orange.</p><p>"Won't they think..." Ron began.</p><p>"Do you honestly care what they think?" Malfoy said, sighing. He sat heavily on the bed farthest from the door.</p><p>"I hate to ask this, but if you help me into this damn bed I'll answer your first question for free. So-" He looked up at them both with bright, icy grey eyes. "What do you want to know?"</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0023"><h2>23. First Snows and Fresh Starts</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Outside, the rain had started again. Droplets spattered the dark glass and trailed down in streams to pool on the sill.</p><p>Inside Draco Malfoy's dorm room, the three boys sat on one of the three four-poster beds: two cross-legged at the foot of the bed, and one perched against the headboard with a bandaged leg outstretched. He was cradling a hot cup of tea in both hands, which a nervous House Elf had brought moments before, along with a tray of food that was as yet untouched and steaming slightly on the table beside the bed.</p><p>"What a fucking ordeal," Malfoy remarked. He blew on his tea and took a sip. "Right. What is the Muggle expression? Fire away?"</p><p>Harry had already decided what he wanted to ask.</p><p>"Why did we kiss at the Christmas ball?"</p><p>Malfoy looked sceptical. "What happened to 'flee the scene all ye who question thy sexuality' Potter? Sure you won't run screaming this time?"</p><p>"Moment of weakness. Also - and not to put too fine a point on it - shut up, Malfoy."</p><p>"'Sides," Ron added, slyly, though not without going red himself, "He got over it."</p><p>Harry blushed. "Let's just say it took Ron saying it out loud for me to figure out for myself that, yeah, I'm maybe not as, uh... straight as I thought I was. Kinda knocked my whole world sideways."</p><p>"Well, well. Introspection from a Gryffindor. I never thought I'd see the day. From two Gryffindors, in fact. Maybe I've corrupted you."</p><p>"Hey, we're all in the same House now," Ron said.</p><p>"So, you're shall we say... questioning? Bent? Queer?"</p><p>In his head he cycled through images of Cho Chang, of Ginny, of her body... of Dean Thomas, of <em>his</em> body... Of Malfoy. And Ron. In the end, Harry shrugged.</p><p>"I dunno."</p><p>"Oh how insightful. I take back my earlier comment. And you, Weasley?"</p><p>"I am... I'm gay, aren't I?"</p><p>Ron seemed taken aback by his own words. He looked at Harry, who immediately reached out and laced their fingers together on the bedspread.</p><p>"Really? You're sure as that?" Malfoy probed.</p><p>Ron gulped, then nodded.</p><p>"If kissing girls was a laugh, then snogging y- um, guys... err. It's like the difference between 'oh, this is nice' and 'fucking hell, this is <em>amazing'.</em> And um, I know what I think about when I uh. Well, let's just say I had a lot of very good-looking <em>Chudley Cannons</em> players on my bedroom wall for a reason. Not that I could put it into words or admit it to myself or... whatever. I think I honestly thought Hermione would err, <em>cure</em> me or something."</p><p>"Ronald Weasley, a saviour of the wizarding world, gay for hot Quidditch jocks in orange. Noted."</p><p>"Hey!" Ron pulled the pillow he had been leaning against out from behind him and - gently - swung it at the smug expression on Malfoy's face.</p><p>"Attacking me while I'm <em>injured?</em> Low blow, Weasley. Look, now I've spilled my tea..."</p><p>Harry, feeling the conversation had rather gotten out of hand, tried to steer it back.</p><p>"The ball?" he prompted.</p><p>Malfoy smoothed his hair back into place.</p><p>"Yes. Well, I mean first of all I was drunk. That's a given. And I'd been meaning to talk to you, I suppose... an apology was long past due, was it not? It seemed like the right time and place. I saw you alone on the steps and you were drunk enough to let me speak without flying off the handle. And then I suppose I got a little... excited? You were staring at me with those green eyes, Potter. At me. Right through me, more like. Like you were seeing a person and not some... monster.</p><p>"And it's not like there are many options at the school for a pariah, in any case. I guess you could put it down to simple frustration and alcohol. The perfect combination for bad decision-making."</p><p>"Was it a bad decision?"</p><p>Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Oh yes, Potter. Absolute moment of sanity for me that was. Snog the Boy Who Lived, who's hated me for seven years. Who was on the other side of a fucking war. Because I was what: horny? And you just so happened to be available? Potter, I think better decisions were made under Fudge's reign over the Ministry, don't you?</p><p>"Anyway, you've had your question. My turn. Explain this map you were talking about."</p><p>Harry nodded.</p><p>"I can't believe I'm telling <em>you</em> this but a deal's a deal. Not a word to anyone, by the way. OK. It's a map that shows everyone in Hogwarts. Here. It's better that I show you."</p><p>Harry took out the map and laid it out on the covers. He spelled the ink lines to dance across the parchment. Malfoy looked on, fascinated.</p><p>After staring at the milling dots for some time, he started to laugh.</p><p>"You <em>have</em> been stalking me! Merlin, am I really that irresistible?"</p><p>"Shady, more like," Ron replied. "Seriously, way to spend most of last term acting <em>exactly</em> like a bloody spy on a secret mission. Sneaking around the castle doing who knows what. How were we meant to know what you were up to?"</p><p>"Might've, I don't know, <em>asked me?"</em></p><p>"You can't just ask a spy if he's a spy, Malfoy."</p><p>"Soooo. All you see are these dots, then? In which case..." Malfoy had a wicked glint in his eye. "Potter, has Weasley told you the whole story about that day after Charms class?" He bent and sipped his tea. "I rather suspect not."</p><p>Harry turned. "Uhh, what's he talking about, Ron?"</p><p>"Ooh, marvellous. Your first fight. Do tell him."</p><p>Ron was somewhere between the colour of a postbox and a beetroot.</p><p>"Ummm..."</p><p>"You <em>see,"</em> Malfoy interrupted. "Weasley here has been quite... enthusiastic in his new-found explorations. He pounced on me the day after our little tête-à-tête. Then once we'd finished rebuilding the remnants of that bathroom, he was at it again. All enthusiasm, no finesse, I might add. But after he'd spent all of Charms staring at me like I was a Hogwarts banquet, I felt it was time to show him a thing or two."</p><p>"Malfoy, I swear. You've got a way with words that instantly makes your face very punchable," Ron growled.</p><p>"It's a gift. Fine. <em>You</em> tell him the rest."</p><p>Harry was, at this point, very confused.</p><p>"Ron. Whatever it is, it's fine-"</p><p>"<em>Right.</em> Will the both of you just..." Ron screwed his eyes shut and blurted out the next sentence like he was throwing up a slug. "Malfoy sucked my cock, OK?"</p><p>"What?!"</p><p>Harry whipped his head round to stare at the blonde who was chuckling into his mug. Harry imagined that same blonde head bobbing up and down on-</p><p>Ron let out a huge breath. "Err. T-told you I was gay," he finished, lamely. "Doesn't really get much gayer, does it?"</p><p>"Oh <em>believe me,</em> it does," Malfoy retorted. He looked very pleased with himself. "Well, Potter? Thoughts? Or are you going to throw a wobbly again?"</p><p>Ron looked genuinely sick, Harry realised. He squeezed his fingers reassuringly.</p><p>"N-no. I'm fine, thank you for your <em>concern,</em> Malfoy. Bloody hellfire. So you two have... umm... well Ron, I think we can officially say I'm the most uhh, innocent party here then."</p><p>"Innocent?" Malfoy questioned. "It wasn't innocence I felt when you pulled me closer to you in that classroom. In fact, I think it was a long, hard-"</p><p>"Malfoy!"</p><p>"What?" Malfoy blinked. "Wand. I was going to say. Long, hard wand. Besides, you told me you've had sex. Hardly the puritanical hero move I was expecting, by the way."</p><p>"Yeah, but not..."</p><p>"Look." Malfoy put his mug down on the tray beside him. His tone was serious, which, for some reason, sent a thrill right through Harry's body, which was already piqued at the thought of those pale pink lips around his best friend's dick.</p><p>"Clearly, you've both had a bit of a sexual awakening or whatever <em>Witch Weekly</em> would call it. I realise as the resident object of your intense interest, suspicion, hatred and so on, I've become... wrapped up in whatever it is going on between the pair of you. And I'm not going to lie, it's been fun. But you're all loved up now, yes? So if we can put this all behind us and just... start fresh, then I'd be grateful. I'm sick of being 'the enemy' so at least some good may come of all this. Let's just go off, live our lives, I'll ignore you and you can leave me alone for the rest of the year, and we can part ways and never see each other again."</p><p>Harry shook his head.</p><p>"There's no reset button, Malfoy."</p><p>"Excuse me?"</p><p>"I'm serious. What, you want us to forget everything between us - the bad, and the good? I don't think so. I- I'm not the best at figuring out what I feel, but um. The thing is..."</p><p>"It's not just us, Malfoy. You're part of whatever this is," Ron finished.</p><p>"Like hell I am."</p><p>Harry pressed on. <em>In for a penny...</em> "You are. Or do you want to explain what happened in Collins' classroom? 'Cause that wasn't just... nothing. You felt something, right?"</p><p>Malfoy stuttered.</p><p>Harry nodded. "That's what I thought. And Ron. What, um. What do you feel?"</p><p>"Feel? Harry, fucking confused, mate."</p><p>"Yeah, I think that makes three of us."</p><p>"Too right."</p><p>Harry laughed.</p><p>"But um," Ron continued. "You are right. I've not got a clue what any of this means, or why I've been acting the way I've been acting. Honestly, I thought I was um... on my own here. That this was all just me, in my head, <em>using</em> you both."</p><p>Malfoy found his voice again. "Careful. I like to think I've got some agency in my own life, Weasley."</p><p>"For once, I agree with Malfoy," Harry added. "We've all made choices, so the question is - what do we do next?"</p><p>"Are you sure you want to include me in this, Potter? It... complicates things."</p><p>"Yeah, I am."</p><p>Harry could feel the energy in the room shift, subtly. Malfoy seemed to be lost in thought. Ron was holding his hand very tightly.</p><p>Finally, Malfoy spoke.</p><p>"Prove it."</p><p>It was half dare, half invitation. Harry felt the back of his neck tingle.</p><p>
  <em>Here goes nothing...</em>
</p><p>He pulled Ron's hand up to his lips and kissed his knuckles before letting go. Ron, wide-eyed, brought his knees to his chest. Then, Harry inched forward, crawling over the mattress until he was face to face with Malfoy, who interestingly, looked like a deer caught in headlights - as if he hadn't expected Harry to actually, well, do what he was about to do.</p><p>He reached out, tilted that pointed chin upwards and kissed him, gently, at first, like that night at the ball. Those fluttering kisses, like promises. Then, his thoughts emptied, one by one, and he was drawn inextricably into the taste of him, the smell, the sparks that shivered through him as Malfoy's tongue danced across his lips, and he was lost in the sensation of it, how <em>right</em> it felt, how <em>wrong,</em> how...</p><p>How very, very aroused he was becoming. He groaned, hungrily. In the end, it was Malfoy who pulled away, clearly needing to come up for air. They stared at each other in wonder. In lust.</p><p>"Yeah... I'm <em>definitely</em> gay," Ron said.</p><p>Malfoy smiled and it was like the sun bursting through the clouds. Harry sat back and the three of them burst into giggles.</p><p>"Oh, oh - fuck you both, that ruddy hurts," Malfoy moaned, clutching his sides.</p><p>"Ha ha, s-sorry Malfoy," Ron said and tried to get himself under control. "Can't help if I'm a funny fucker."</p><p>"Ego matches the drapes, I see. Well, Potter, I don't know what the hell I'm getting into here, but if I get to do that again, then I guess I'm along for the (and I can't believe I'm saying this with a straight face) <em>ride."</em></p><p>"Good," Harry said, grinning and feeling somewhat proud of his performance. Proud of how flustered he's made Malfoy look... in fact, how flustered Ron looked, too. It was quite fun to see them all hot and bothered...</p><p>They sat, a little awkwardly, in silence.</p><p>"As it is, I can't say I'm up for much," Malfoy said, picking at the bedsheets. "Not for a few days anyway. So I guess we should take some time to get reacquainted, I suppose? I get the sense - given what's happening here as a clue, for starters - we're not the same people we were in ruddy first year. So. There is one thing we can do-over." He stuck a hand out to Harry. "Hi. I'm Draco Malfoy."</p><p>Harry laughed and took his outstretched hand.</p><p>"Potter. Harry Potter. Nice to meet you, um. Draco?"</p><p>Malfoy went pink. His hand lingered in Harry's for a few seconds.</p><p>"Yes, I suppose we're past that. Hi, Harry."</p><p>Ron coughed. Draco rolled his eyes and with a dramatic flourish, extended his hand towards the redhead. "One of the Weasleys, I take it?"</p><p>Ron laughed and shook his hand firmly. "What gave it away?"</p><p>"Devilish good looks, I'm sure. Draco Malfoy."</p><p>"Hi Draco. Ron."</p><p>"Hi, Ron."</p><p>Draco let go and closed his eyes. He slumped against the headboard. "Right, that's about as much of that I can take."</p><p>Ron clapped his hands together. "I have an idea," he announced as he patted at the pockets of his robes.</p><p>Minutes later, they were using the tray, now empty, as a surface for a raucous game of Exploding Snap. It turned out Draco was a sore loser and a fearsomely competitive opponent.</p><p>"Can I go back to hating him, Harry?" Ron said after losing his eighth game in a row.</p><p>Malfoy tutted, then looked dangerously contemplative. "I <em>do</em> like a good hate fucking, Wea- Ron. Maybe I should make beating you at this game some kind of foreplay."</p><p>"I'll show you foreplay in a minute, git."</p><p>"<em>Such</em> an affectionate pet name."</p><p>"Shut up, git."</p><p>The mention of 'hate fucking' had sent Harry's thoughts tumbling into troublesome territory that he hadn't yet fully unpacked. He watched as the cards shuffled themselves. It <em>was</em> getting late and there was the matter of...</p><p>Malfoy yawned, as if hearing his train of thought.</p><p>"I'm rather exhausted," he said. "So if the pair of you would kindly fuck off and let me rest, I'd be grateful." He paused. "Although... what was this mention of 'sleeping together'? I'm led to believe you didn't mean in the biblical sense. And I won't be late to a party <em>I</em> organised, frankly."</p><p>The rain outside thrummed insistently against the glass. No, as Harry looked up, he realised it was hailing.</p><p>"I get nightmares. About the war. About Voldemort. Ron started sneaking into my bed and they, um, they stopped. So we kept doing it."</p><p>Draco folded his arms. "Oh. Lucky for some," was all he said.</p><p>Harry didn't know what that meant, but the ex-Slytherin didn't seem interested in elucidating.</p><p>Ron tucked the cards back into his pocket and stood. Then, hesitated.</p><p>"Should I, um... should we?"</p><p>"Are you seriously asking if you should kiss me goodbye? Honestly, Gryffindors. Go - fuck off. In the nicest possible terms. I've had enough of you for one evening."</p><p>Ron grinned and lightly punched Draco on the arm. He joined Harry on the other side of the bed and they both turned to leave. A sound stopped them.</p><p>"Um. Don't... I don't know if there are any rules for this thing, but don't tell anyone, OK?"</p><p>"Not likely," Ron replied. "Who'd fucking believe us, anyway," he laughed.</p><p>"Good. And. Um..." Draco seemed to be struggling to find the words.</p><p>"Don't... err... don't do anything I wouldn't do. Tonight. I mean. I'm not going to be some add-on. An afterthought. Late to the party, like I said."</p><p>"What's he saying, Harry?"</p><p>Harry raised an eyebrow at Draco, who was looking squeamish. "He means, don't have sex without him, right?"</p><p>Ron jumped as if he'd been <em>stupified</em>.</p><p>"Wh-wh-what? We weren't gonna- um."</p><p>Harry sighed. "We'll see you tomorrow, Draco. OK?"</p><p>"Yeah," Draco mumbled.</p><p>"And we won't have sex, alright?"</p><p>"Fuck off."</p><p>"Git."</p><p>Ron laughed.</p><p>That night, after the others had fallen asleep, Harry lay wide awake waiting for Ron to slide under the covers beside him. He was just thinking that maybe he'd fallen asleep, when he heard his best mate's footsteps. <em>Is he even my best mate, anymore? Or is he... something else?</em> Harry mused as Ron appeared silhouetted in the dim light.</p><p>"Fancy meeting you here," he whispered in a put-on accent. Harry snorted.</p><p>"Get in already."</p><p>Ron quickly joined him. He nuzzled into Harry's neck and practically clambered on top of him, his weight pressing down on Harry and - ever so slightly - taking his breath away.</p><p>"Gerroff," Harry said, half-heartedly. He was ignored.</p><p>"You know," Ron muttered. "I never thought I'd see you and Draco-fucking-Malfoy make out and like it, but I have had that image burned into my brain for the last several hours, and it's driving me insane." Ron kissed from Harry's ear down to the base of his throat.</p><p>"Driving <em>you</em> insane? I've just learned you had your cock in his mouth and you turned up to the Great Hall after like it was no big thing."</p><p>"I kinda left him high and dry that day, not gonna lie," Ron chuckled. "Guess I owe him. Merlin, Harry. It wasn't half brilliant though. I mean, 'Mione and me uh tried some stuff - let's not go there - but... he knows what he's doing. I'm pretty sure he's got a charmed tongue or something."</p><p>Talk of Draco's charmed tongue were not helping matters. Nor was the way Ron was moving, with his leg in between Harry's thighs.</p><p>"We really need to iron out these rules," Harry grumbled. "'Cause I'm bloody hard and would <em>not</em> say no to ah, oh-"</p><p>Harry didn't get the chance to finish his thought because Ron had grabbed his dick through the thin fabric of his pyjamas and was rubbing the length of it with his palm.</p><p>"I'm pretty sure we get to even the playing field just a <em>little</em>," Ron said before returning to mouthing Harry's neck in a way that shot bolts of arousal through Harry's entire body. He shuddered, arching up into Ron's hand, thrusting fervently, unable to stop himself, or think or worry about anything except for the need to be closer, and faster, and harder and-</p><p>He clapped his hand to his mouth and moaned into his own fingers as he came. Ron bit down in his neck, making the pulsing more violent, and he shivered with each wave of pleasure as it swept over him.</p><p>Ron was rutting against him, clearly close to his own orgasm. Still high on the feeling of coming so hard his ears were ringing, Harry reached between them and with just a few strokes Ron groaned and Harry felt the frantic thrusting give way to a tension that thrilled him as Ron's whole body stiffened and he came in Harry hand.</p><p><em>I did that,</em> he thought, half disbelievingly, as Ron slumped back, breathing hard.</p><p>"Think he'll be mad?" he asked after a few minutes.</p><p>Harry mumbled a cleaning spell on them both. "Yeah, probably."</p><p>"Well he shouldn't have kissed you like that. Got me all... excited."</p><p>"I'm sure he'll see it that way." Harry yawned.</p><p>"I'll make it up to him. This is really happening isn't it?"</p><p>"Yup."</p><p>Ron rolled over and pulled Harry back into his chest. He reached around to hold his hand.</p><p>"Good. Night, Harry."</p><p>In the morning, before dawn, Ron slipped into his own bed. Harry lay there as the light slowly filtered through the curtains. Right. If the events of the past few days were anything to go by, he fancied blokes. he definitely fancied blokes. Maybe women, too. But Ron and Draco Malfoy. <em>Malfoy</em>. As well.</p><p>
  <em>And if the papers ever get this information I think the whole wizarding world will think I've gone off my bloody rocker.</em>
</p><p>It was a strange thing to come to terms with. Not something he'd entertained, before, and yet now... now it seemed so blindingly obvious that he wondered if he'd been wandering around <em>obliviated</em> or something.</p><p>
  <em>And why fancy just one bloke? Why not your best mate and your worst enemy. Just to spice things up.</em>
</p><p>He would never have believed it. But it was real. It was happening. And he didn't want it to stop. Because there was something... wonderful about Ron. He was like coming home. He was warm, and funny and <em>hot.</em> And he was his best friend. They'd been through so much together. He could tell Ron anything and know that he'd always be there for him.</p><p>And then there was Malfoy. Draco. Who lit a fire in Harry's stomach with a look. Who was smart and charming and bloody gorgeous. And who had been through so much of the same shit Harry had. Who had faced Lord Voldemort and did what he had to survive. Who had made terrible choices, and who was trying his best to make up for them. And who Harry had felt drawn to, like their fates were intertwined or something, from the very first day he had entered the wizarding world, through to the present.</p><p>He put on his glasses and got up to looked out the window. Snow carpeted everything he could see, all the way to the shadows of the Forbidden Forest. It must have fallen in the night. Untouched snow. Like a new world.</p><p>He grinned. No matter what happened next, for once, he was going to enjoy doing something just for himself. Not to defeat a Dark Lord, or for anything or anyone else. He was doing something purely because it felt fucking brilliant.</p><p><em>Doing someone</em>. A second thought chimed in.</p><p><em>Doing someones.</em> A third thought piped up.</p><p><em>Yeah... well. Fuck it. Let's see what happens</em>, Harry thought. Outside, the fresh snow glittered under the glow of the winter sun.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0024"><h2>24. Healing</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Ron and Harry crunched through the snow towards the Quidditch pitch. Around them, hundreds of other students were doing the same, all dressed in House colours and holding flags and banners.</p><p>They had some hot pumpkin juice in flasks and were cradling them in gloved hands. This Wednesday's game was a big one: Gryffindor vs. Slytherin. Gryffindor were - so far - second in the league table, with Slytherin just 20 points ahead. The Slytherin lead had held all last term but Gryffindor had slowly been eating into their lead, and many had bets on this being the game to kick them off the top pedestal.</p><p>"Prepare to have your arses thoroughly kicked, boys!"</p><p>Harry looked up to see Draco Malfoy, crutches under both arms and his face half buried in a green scarf, leaning against the stairs leading up to the stalls.</p><p>"As if! Git!" Ron hollered back.</p><p>As they levelled with him, Harry muttered under his voice:</p><p>"You need a hand getting up?"</p><p>"Why? You offering?" Malfoy chuckled. "It's fine. Pansy's meeting me. She just went back for something."</p><p>Other students were coming into hearing range, so Draco winked and gestured that they should head up without him. Harry nodded.</p><p>They ended up sitting amongst a group of Dennis Creevey's friends - who all studiously ignored Harry even when Dennis introduced him, sticking to their start-of-year pact, much to Harry's amusement. It was nice to be surrounded by the warm colours of Gryffindor again. Ron and Harry had dug out their old scarves for the occasion, figuring McGonagall could hardly get mad at them for wearing them in support of the Gryffindor team. Either way, she was out of sight, presumably supervising the new commentator who had taken over temporarily after the current one had caught the frog-in-the-throat curse that had been doing the rounds among the lower years.</p><p>"Hey, there's Ginny," Ron said, nudging Harry in the side. They whooped and waved at her until she noticed them in the sea of red and orange. She saluted them and did a loop on her broom, to a few cheers and a smattering of applause.</p><p>"The team's looking in good shape," Harry said, trying to be upbeat about it. He'd gone to a few games, watched one or two practice sessions, given them some pointers - but even so, it was hard not to be out there with them. They had a new Seeker - a third year called Douglas Vulpes - who was keen and sharp-sighted, if nervous under pressure. Ginny had drilled them hard as the team captain, so they were well-organised, with a strong offense and more disciplined manoeuvring tactics than ever. Still, it was pretty obvious she was the only one with exceptional talent for it. Back when they'd been dating she had confessed to Harry that she wanted to go professional. It was clear by her grace as she circled the pitch that she was destined for it.</p><p>"Not like it was when we were on it. And you're the best Seeker the team's gonna have for another hundred years I bet," Ron said, loyally. He then slid his hand between them on the bench and curled their gloved fingers together. Harry shuffled to hide this with his cloak, one eye on Creevey to his left. They grinned at each other. In the lightly falling snow, the tip of Ron's freckled nose had turned pink with cold. Harry was busy thinking about those freckles when Madam Hooch's whistle rang out and the game exploded into action.</p><p>Earlier that week - the morning after their evening in Draco's dorm - Harry and Ron had bumped into all five ex-Slytherins on the balcony of the Den. Theodore Nott was helping Draco hop awkwardly down the stairs, and the blonde, in turn, was complaining with every step.</p><p>"Where are you going?" Harry had blurted out before he could stop himself.</p><p>Nott sneered back over his shoulder. "Why? You his keeper?"</p><p>"Hey-"</p><p>"Hospital wing, Potter. Pomfrey wants to see me every morning." Draco said, not turning around.</p><p>"Oh."</p><p>Harry started down the stairs, Ron in step behind him, but they were both stopped short by Pansy Parkinson standing with her hands on her hips. She was tapping one foot and appeared agitated. As she was on the lower step, her head barely reached Harry's chest, but nevertheless she looked up at him defiantly.</p><p>"What?"</p><p>"Look. Potter. For once your saviour complex has come in handy. OK, maybe not for once, but you know what I mean. Anyway. I just wanted to say... thank you. For saving Draco from his <em>own idiocy" -</em> behind her, Draco mustered a half-hearted retort - "and for, well. For giving him a chance."</p><p>She thrust out her hand. Harry stared at it for a second, wondering what it meant, before it dawned on him. Just as Draco had shaken hands with Neville, she was prompting him to do the same.</p><p>
  <em>Slytherins and their games...</em>
</p><p>"Oh, uhh. Yeah. That's OK. Don't need to thank me or anything..." He shrugged and shook her hand, feeling that it was, despite an obvious manipulation of the situation, still the right thing to do.</p><p>"Whatever. Same to you, Weasley. I suppose," she replied, sniffing. With that, she spun back around and followed the others out the portrait door.</p><p>"Shit just gets weirder and weirder, you know?" Ron said. His breath tingled the hairs on the back of Harry's neck as he squeezed his shoulders. "Come on, let's get breakfast."</p><p>It wasn't until evening when they caught sight of Draco again. He was sitting on the sofa by the fire with the other ex-Slytherins, who had formed a protective pack around him. Ron chuckled as Draco gestured emphatically, clearly enacting the tale of his broken leg and ribs in a dramatic way that reminded Harry of how he'd held court over his hippogriff injuries in third year. They couldn't overhear exactly what he was saying though, as they had cast the silencing spell they favoured over the area. Nevertheless, he kept glancing over to where they were sitting on the beanbag chairs, making it very difficult for Harry to concentrate on his book: <em>Ten Transfiguration Techniques for Turning Tables into Transport.</em> And Ron wasn't helping, what with occasionally brushing Harry's arm, or leaning in just a bit closer than he would normally to whisper a comment about whatever Draco seemed to be saying.</p><p><em>'Shall we talk in the Transfiguration courtyard later? Around nine?'</em> A few minutes later Draco's voice slipped into Harry's mind, making him shiver.</p><p><em>'Are you going to do this all the time?'</em> he thought back, frowning into his book. The words danced across the page, as if they knew he wasn't paying attention to them.</p><p>
  <em>'How else do you expect us to conduct our illicit affair? Shall I bother the redhead or will he throw a fit?'</em>
</p><p>
  <em>'Don't. He still doesn't know you do this.'</em>
</p><p>
  <em>'Hilarious. Oh the temptation... anyway, Potter. Nine?'</em>
</p><p>
  <em>'Yes. Sounds good.'</em>
</p><p>"He wants to meet us outside later," Harry muttered to Ron.</p><p>"Huh? How do you know?"</p><p>"He keeps doing this..." Harry waved. "Legilimency thing. Talks in my head."</p><p><em>'Hey you're not telling him what I'm doing, are you? You're no fun,'</em> Draco's voice returned. Harry looked over to catch him pouting comically for a brief second.</p><p>"Woah. Really? Oh-!"</p><p>Ron stared off into the distance for a second before his eyes widened in shock.</p><p>Harry sighed. "What did he say?"</p><p>Ron gulped. "Uh. Best not repeated in... public. Any way of uh, stopping him?"</p><p>"Yeah, I'll show you later. Actually, it was Snape who taught me how, weirdly."</p><p>"Merlin, Malfoy, uhh, Draco - can you stop describing..." Ron mumbled under his breath. "Yes, I know what I'm thinking, no need to bloody repeat it back to me... oh get out my head, you twat..."</p><p>After trying to distract themselves with a chess tournament with Seamus, Neville, Hermione and Anthony Goldstein, Harry and Ron managed to slip away and, for the first time that year, decided to break out the invisibility cloak. It was a tight squeeze to fit both of them in there, but made easier now they were considerably more comfortable holding onto one another. In fact, they were almost late to the courtyard because fumbling with the cloak had turned into a session of fumbling <em>under</em> the cloak.</p><p>Draco was leaning against the scarred great tree, wearing a grey woollen hat, a thick fur-lined cloak buttoned up to his chin, and gloves.</p><p>"I can see your footprints you know," he said, although he looked unsettled. "How are you doing that?"</p><p>"Hoooow do you know it's not a ghoooost?" Ron said in an attempt at a spooky voice.</p><p>"Because I'm not a moron."</p><p>"Invisibility cloak," Harry said.</p><p>Draco cocked his head. "Oh? Fascinating. I've heard they're extremely rare - one of your secret Boy Who Lived things, is it? Here." He cast a disillusionment charm and a silencing spell around them. "There, that should do. It's dark and no-one going to be out here in the cold are they?"</p><p>They shrugged off the cloak. Without it, the wind chill hit Harry's face with a sharpness he wasn't expecting. It was dark but for the glow from a few windows.</p><p>Ron hugged himself. "Shit, no wonder no-one's out here. It's bloody freezing."</p><p>"Yes. Pansy could hardly believe I wanted to take a walk outside by myself. I told her Pomfrey said it would be good for my leg in the end. It's ruddy not, by the way. Feels like my foot's gone numb."</p><p>Ron shivered. He grabbed Harry and shoved him towards Draco, so they were all suddenly standing in a close huddle, almost like the ones Oliver Wood had made them do at the start of Quidditch matches. Harry resisted the urge to start a rousing speech about team spirit. It helped that, as their breath mingled in puffs of white fog, the intensity of the atmosphere was nothing like that of a pre-match pep talk. It was far more... intimate.</p><p>"So..." Harry started.</p><p>"Do handjobs count as sex?" Ron blurted out at the same time.</p><p>Harry briefly considered Apparating into another dimension. <em>Good thing you're hot, Ron, cause tactful you are not.</em></p><p>"Seriously?"</p><p>"Yeah."</p><p>Draco closed his eyes. "I can't believe a Weasley just asked me that."</p><p>"Ah bugger; you're mad. It was my fault - when Harry kissed you it just got me all-"</p><p>"In what world are handjobs sex?"</p><p>"Huh?" Harry said.</p><p>"That's... like... the handshake of sexual activities. I'm pretty sure even straight guys do it once in a while. I'm hardly surprised if you had... energies that needed to be released. I have that effect. Still, in a dorm with <em>all</em> your roommates right there, naughty naughty..."</p><p>"You're not bothered?"</p><p>"Do I get something if I am? Some sort of attempt to appease my wrath?"</p><p>Ron grinned and before Draco could say another word, swooped in to peck him on the corner of the mouth.</p><p>"Oh I'm soooo angry, how <em>could</em> you..."</p><p>Ron pulled him close and kissed him more deeply this time.</p><p>"Do we need to figure out some rules or something then? Since we're on the subject?" Harry asked, trying not to concentrate on how dry his mouth had become at the sight of Ron and Draco Malfoy snogging right in front of him. The cold had faded, replaced with a prickling sweat and a heat that radiated from his core.</p><p>"Who cares about rules?" Ron said, breathing against Draco's lips.</p><p>"Well, Ronald Weasley, I <em>do</em> have <em>some</em> thoughts on the- mmph..." Draco attempted to speak before Ron had grabbed him by the back of the neck and drawn him into another greedy kiss.</p><p>Harry wasn't sure if he was feeling awkward or aroused, or both. The way that Ron's neck stretched as he bent his head toward Draco. The way the blonde melted into him, moaning as Ron rubbed his thumb under his ear, half knocking his hat off his head...</p><p>Harry coughed and the pair broke apart. They were breathing heavily. Ron, clearly addled with arousal, turned to him and started kissing around the base of his jaw. Harry heard himself - to his horror - squeak as he batted him away.</p><p>"Down boy, down," Draco said, clutching his sides as he giggled.</p><p>"What?" Ron said, smiling lop-sidedly.</p><p>"As much as I appreciate your voracious appetite, Po- Harry's right. Whatever the hell this is, we probably need to figure out one or two things. One that springs to mind is - what are we doing about Granger?"</p><p>"Uh. Not telling her?" Ron said, questioningly.</p><p>Harry nodded. "Yeah. This... I have no idea how we'd even start telling her and... I mean what are we saying anyway? No, this should be... between us, right?"</p><p>"Glad we're on the same page. Figured you three update each other on your latest bowel movements was all. Safe to assume I'm not telling anyone about this, lest I be locked up for <em>imperiusing</em> the heroes of Hogwarts or something. Good."</p><p>"My turn?" Ron asked.</p><p>"Sure."</p><p>"Uh. The past is in the past. I'm not the idiot I used to be, you're not the evil git you used to be and all that. So let's just... leave it there. Fresh start."</p><p>"Fair enough. Not a point I have <em>any</em> wish to argue with."</p><p>Ron nodded. "Harry? What about you?"</p><p>Harry thought for a minute. "So... I'm not interested in... just the physical stuff. That's what Ginny and I, err. Yeah. I don't want to do that again. At the very least I want us to... try to get to know one another again. As friends, even. I'm not saying it needs to be more than that."</p><p>"I can't help but feel this is a rule for me. <em>Is</em> it even a rule?" Draco asked.</p><p>"I'm just saying we should... keep talking. While we do other stuff..."</p><p>"Can we stop talking now, though?" Ron asked, eagerly. "It's cold and I'm out of ideas. Other stuff sounds pretty good right now."</p><p>"This virginal blush of youth - so coy, so <em>demure</em>," Draco mocked, while giving Harry a thoughtful look.</p><p>Ron growled and pounced on him.</p><p>The next morning, Harry found himself tasked with helping Draco unwrap and change his bandages in the hospital wing. An experience that was made somewhat unbearable by the fact that Pomfrey was supervising, Padma Patil assisted (at a distance - she was still terrified of Draco) and Pansy Parkinson was there, too, for some reason. She chatted at Draco as he lifted his arms for Harry to unwrap the bandages, seemingly oblivious to both boys' silence and the blushes they exchanged as they caught each other's eyes. Thankfully, Draco managed to send her off to fetch him some breakfast from the Great Hall. Padma went to Pomfrey's office to help her with something, giving the pair a small window to speak in private.</p><p>"It's healing up better than I expected," Harry said as he smeared a salve over the pink wound on Draco's side. "It might scar though."</p><p>Draco shivered. "That's cold. And oh woe is me, my perfect form diminished forever. Or something. It's not like I don't have other scars. It's fine."</p><p>Harry's eyes flitted to the Dark Mark in the inside of his wrist. Draco saw what he was looking at and pulled his arm in. He gasped as he saw his unbandaged torso for the first time.</p><p>"Godric's beard. I look like I've been hexed with polka dots, Potter."</p><p>"Harry," Harry corrected, automatically. "They should fade in a few days."</p><p>He was right, though. Draco's skin was a mess of purple and yellow blotches from his chest all the way to his waistband. Though Harry was sure seeing the blonde half undressed in front of him in any other circumstance would be quite pleasant, it did nothing for him now given the extent of his injuries. He quickly reached around Draco's back and wound the bandages around him.</p><p>"These have been soaking in a healing potion overnight, Pomfrey said."</p><p>"Is that why they're so itchy?" Draco complained, wriggling in his seat on the bed.</p><p>"Hey, stay still."</p><p>Draco ignored him, so, feeling brave, and under the pretence of wrapping the bandages, Harry licked the outer rim of his ear from lobe to hairline, and whispered, "I said: stay still."</p><p>Draco's whole body tensed at the contact.</p><p>"<em>Potter</em>. I swear if I had known the pair of you were like this in fifth year I would've jumped ship in a heartbeat."</p><p>"Harry," he replied as he nibbled Draco's earlobe then nonchalantly returned to bandaging. "And I think we'd have both punched you if you tried anything then."</p><p>"Hmm. Fair."</p><p>Harry jumped as a cheer ripped through the crowd. Dennis Creevey elbowed him as he stood waving his arms wildly and whooping. Bringing his thoughts back to the present, Harry saw Ginny punching the air as she circled Vulpes. Gryffindor's Seeker had caught the golden snitch.</p><p>They made their way down onto the pitch to congratulate the team - it was a decisive win, putting Gryffindor 130 points ahead. Dennis insisted that Harry and Ron join the Gryffindors in a team photo, which he took with his brother's old camera. For a second, harry let himself enjoy imagining that it was his team again - and his win. Only for a second though. Feeling guilty, he then made a point of emphatically telling Vulpes that it was the best catch he'd ever seen, which left the boy so puffed with pride Harry thought he might burst if poked with a sharp stick.</p><p>By the time they left, most of the stalls had emptied out. Harry and Ron were discussing Ginny's pick for Keeper when they spotted a familiar face by the broom sheds.</p><p>"Look who the cat dragged in," Draco said in his best sneer, then grinned. "Rather proud of that one. Muggles have the strangest sayings, don't they?"</p><p>Ron stuck out his tongue.</p><p>"Oh, what was that you said earlier - 'kick our arses' was it?" he mocked, snootily.</p><p>"Total setup. Ref should've seen that Beater off the pitch mid-game with her tail between her legs. Clear foul against Krispin."</p><p>"And I suppose Warrick was just swinging that bat Ginny's way because he'd gone temporarily blind, was it?"</p><p>"She has that bludger look about her. I see how the mistake was made."</p><p>"Oi!" Harry and Ron both protested in unison.</p><p>Draco shook his head. "You have <em>got</em> to make this more fun for me. You are both far too easy to rile."</p><p>Harry smirked and winked at Ron before they both hurtled towards Draco to catch him in a pincer move. They half-dragged him - carefully - around the back of the sheds, where a small alley formed between the buildings, hiding them from prying eyes.</p><p>"Is this more fun?" Ron asked, backing up against the wall of the shed and holding Draco up from behind, with his arms wrapped around his waist. He had Draco's splinted leg with the heel propped up onto his own boot so it was clear of the snow.</p><p>Draco's eyes flashed. Harry wasted no time - heart hammering with excitement, he lunged for the blonde, catching him in a searing kiss. Ron hummed appreciatively as Harry pressed them both into the wall, his hands roaming over hips, arms, shoulders - whose, it was hard to tell.</p><p>"Hey... Harry..." Ron muttered.</p><p>Harry gazed into his blue eyes and lifted himself onto his tiptoes to press his warm lips against his best friend's cold ones. Ron's tongue immediately slid against his own, sending hot waves running up and down Harry's body.</p><p>"Mmm, as lovely as this is, I am getting squashed here," he heard Draco saying, as if at a distance. Harry pulled away reluctantly, and almost returned when Ron nipped his bottom lip as a farewell.</p><p>Somehow, Draco's hands were both firmly cupping his arse.</p><p>"We really need to find a warm spot <em>inside</em> the castle if these ridiculous shenanigans are to continue," he grumbled, giving Harry a squeeze. He let his head drop back against Ron's shoulder. "I'm - once again - hard as a rock and numb as a snow fairy's balls."</p><p>Ron nodded, groaning and Harry felt his hips shift tellingly against Draco's backside. The flow of the movement brought his own arousal starkly to the forefront of his mind. He bit his lip as Draco's eyes opened, heavy-lidded and the colour of stormy skies.</p><p>Harry let himself get drawn into another kiss - languid, warm, soft and unending - as Ron busied himself rocking all three of them together and mouthing the side of Draco's neck. It took Draco shoving Harry back to break the hypnotic haze of their motion, those kisses, that closeness that wasn't close enough, what with their thick winter cloaks and gloved hands. Harry blinked, dazed.</p><p>"Come on. I'm still healing and continuing this out here is not going to happen."</p><p>"Let's continue it somewhere else then," Ron said, his voice husky.</p><p>"And have Pansy rouse half the school to search for me? Look. As much as I'd <em>love</em> to see what else that mouth's good for, now's not the time. Saying that... you boys have that map thingy, right? Can't it help you find somewhere a little more... private?"</p><p>"How do you stay all cool and Malfoyish at times like this?" Ron said as he perched his chin on Draco's shoulder. Draco turned to him and pecked him on the cheek.</p><p>Harry thought about what Draco was saying as he fetched his crutches from where they'd fallen in the snow. <em>Is there somewhere?</em> <em>Not unless he fancies making out in the Chamber of Secrets...</em> Another thought occurred to him, but it would mean...</p><p>"I have an idea, actually," he said as he handed the crutches to Draco. "But I'll, err, need to ask Hermione's help." Draco frowned, so Harry quickly followed up, saying, "I'll tell her it's for something else, obviously!"</p><p>"Is that a good idea, Harry?" Ron asked, looking surprised.</p><p>"It's fine, I just need her to figure something out."</p><p>Draco rolled his eyes. "And <em>I'm</em> meant to be the secretive one."</p><p>They decided to take separate routes back to the entrance courtyard, Draco making slow progress as he hopped through the inches of packed snow behind them. If he hadn't insisted they leave him, they would've turned back. As it was, it was some minutes before he appeared at the doors of the Great Hall and sat down at his usual end of the table.</p><p>There was a jovial atmosphere around the dinner table and half of the eighth years were decked in Gryffindor colours, despite McGonagall's piercing stare of disapproval from the high table.</p><p>When they'd arrived, Seamus - mysteriously - had handed them both goblets of warm pumpkin juice. Harry realised as he brought the liquid to his face that, based on the burning sensation tickling the inside of his nose, it was spiked with a heavy dose of Firewhisky.</p><p>"Cheers, Seamus!" Ron said, taking a hearty swig. He coughed. "Bloody hell!"</p><p>Harry patted him on the back, laughing.</p><p>Just then, he looked up to see Neville and Blair Zabini walking through the doors. They were talking intensely. The ex-Slytherin had a book open in one hand and was showing Neville a line on the page. Oblivious to their surroundings, and the divide of green and red at the Dumbledore table, they sat between the two groups. Zabini slid the book closer to Neville and seemed to be reading one of the passages aloud as she gestured. Neville nodded, listening.</p><p>"Err, what the fuck?" Harry overheard Seamus exclaim.</p><p>He braced his hands against the table and looked up at the enchanted ceiling, which showed a light shower of snow that swirled around the clusters of floating candles.</p><p>
  <em>This... this could be bad...</em>
</p><p>"Shut it, Seamus. Neville can do what he likes," Dean replied.</p><p><em>Or not?</em> Harry relaxed, only slightly.</p><p>The Irishman stuttered. "But - but fekkin look at him. He's <em>cavorting</em> with the enemy. It was all well and good in the Den with that arse mouthing off, but this... this is insanity."</p><p>Thankfully, the pair hadn't yet noticed that half the eighth years were staring at them. They'd put the book to one side and Neville was offering Blair the breadbasket. The celebratory atmosphere had been replaced with tension you could cut with a knife.</p><p>Movement at the end of the table caught Harry's eye. He ducked his head to stop the grin being seen by the others. Draco had stood. He was - with difficulty - moving toward them, a studiously blank look on his face that didn't fool Harry for a second.</p><p>
  <em>Clever bastard.</em>
</p><p>*"*May I join you?" he heard Draco ask, every word dripping with politeness.</p><p>"Of course," Zabini answered. A surprised expression appeared briefly on her face as she realised the situation. She flicked her silky black hair over one shoulder and gestured at the bench. Draco eased himself into the spot beside her and nodded at Neville.</p><p>"Oh for-" Pansy Parkinson huffed, loud enough for them all to hear. She stood, scooped up her own plate and the one Draco had abandoned, and marched over. She sat opposite them. The gap between her and Justin Finch-Fletchley was only about two feet. He was openly glaring at her.</p><p>The other two ex-Slytherin's promptly followed, leaving their usual end of the table empty.</p><p>"He's such a drama queen," Ron commented into his alcoholic pumpkin juice so only Harry could hear.</p><p>The fact that Neville was - once again - surrounded by ex-Slytherins didn't seem to phase him. He smiled shyly at them and asked Greengrass something about potions, which seemed to draw both her and Nott into a conversation. Harry couldn't hear exactly what they were saying as, once the group had settled, chatter returned to the Dumbledore table, drowning out their conversation - and Gryffindor's celebratory chanting drew the attention of the rest of the room.</p><p>Above them, Nearly Headless Nick wrangled a group of ghosts into an impromptu choir. Against a backdrop of droning of ghosts, the clattering of cutlery against plates reminded Harry of his stomach. He set about spooning roast potatoes from the platter in front of him.</p><p>"What's Neville doing, d'you think?" Ron asked.</p><p>Harry shrugged. "Saw the pair of them talking at the ball, before. And Neville asked me some weird questions about uhh... how to tell if you fancy someone, once. I don't know if he meant Zabini but..."</p><p>Ron looked impressed.</p><p>"Really?" He whistled. "I mean, go Longbottom, if that's the case. Never would've guessed."</p><p>Harry arched an eyebrow.</p><p>Ron chuckled. "Yeah, fair enough. I'm one to talk, yada yada. Guess McGonagall's getting her wish then."</p><p>"What?"</p><p>"She wanted us to break down the barriers between the Houses, yeah? Not the way she was expecting it to happen, but hey - look at us sitting all close together, Slytherins practically in our, err, laps."</p><p>Harry saw Seamus pouring more amber liquid into his goblet. He didn't seem happy about things, given the murderous looks he was sending Blair Zabini's way, but he had remained quiet after Thomas' admonishment. The other ex-Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws were also glancing over sporadically, but as many of them had been present at the incident where Neville had punched the Slytherin boy in the Den, and as most had followed the boy's lead during seventh year, they were keeping a remarkably respectful silence.</p><p>"Neville's... kind of amazing, in his own way," Ron said as he rubbed his foot against Harry's ankle under the table.</p><p>Harry watched as Neville spilled soup half way across the table and the gathered ex-Slytherins helped mop it up with napkins. Draco even ladled soup from the tureen into a new bowl for him, all while Neville flapped and protested the attention.</p><p>"Yeah. He really is."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0025"><h2>25. Stolen Kisses; Secret Rendezvous</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Just uh... putting that rating to good use. Finally. Enjoy ;P</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Potter? Your thoughts?"</p><p>Harry blinked. Dr Khatri was looking at him rather pointedly.</p><p>
  <em>Oh shit.</em>
</p><p>He'd been so busy staring at the back of Draco's head that he hadn't heard... well, anything. He desperately glanced at his notes - doodles in the margins of a blank sheet of parchment - and at the board, where a terrifyingly intricate diagram sprawled across the black surface. No clues there, either.</p><p>"Uhh..."</p><p>Draco coughed and put up his hand.</p><p>"Mister Malfoy?"</p><p>"Just that the question is unclear - did you mean which technique to use in the case of conjuring vertebrates? Or <em>invertebrate</em> live young?"</p><p>Dr Khatri nodded. "You are quite right, thank you. I should specify vertebrates, in this case as simpler methods can indeed be applied otherwise. So, Potter?"</p><p>"Err... you should use the...um..." Harry gritted his teeth. He still had no idea.</p><p><em>'For fuck's sake - the Quincy method. And you owe me.'</em> Draco's voice said inside Harry's head.</p><p>"The, uh, Quincy method," Harry blurted, relieved.</p><p>"Excellent." Dr Khatri carried on her lecture as Draco - without turning around - subtly gave Harry the finger by pretending to scratch his ear. Harry thought back at him:</p><p>
  <em>'Thanks. Git.'</em>
</p><p>
  <em>'You should've known that. Prick.'</em>
</p><p>Harry smiled down at his desk. It was only Friday, but Draco had insisted he was well enough to come to classes, and would not be persuaded to wait until the next week. To be fair, Pomfrey's spells and potions, as well as Harry's extra attentions (if he did say so himself) had meant that Draco didn't even need his crutches to make it to Transfiguration that morning. He was limping, but seemed to have returned to his old self. Or, some healthier version of himself, anyway.</p><p>So now he was here... in Harry's class. A few seats in front of him. That little black ribbon bobbing on the back of his head as he scratched away with his quill. Studiously ignoring him, yet somehow Harry was sure he was somehow also doing everything in his power to distract him. Every movement, whenever he asked or answered a question... Harry couldn't tear his eyes away from him, or wrangle his thoughts enough to take in half of what Dr Khatri was saying.</p><p>When the bell rang to signify the end of class, Harry shoved his stuff into his bag and stood outside the classroom, waiting impatiently for everyone to file out. As if he knew he was waiting for him, Draco sauntered through the door as one of the last stragglers. The impression of nonchalance was ruined, only slightly, by his lop-sided gait.</p><p>"Go left, now," Harry whispered.</p><p>Harry swept past, not checking to see if Draco would follow. He turned the corner and, oh so casually, slid into one of Filch's cleaning closets. It was cramped, dark and musty-smelling, but he didn't care. Neither did Draco when he, too, appeared. Harry made sure he didn't have <em>time</em> to think about it, by pressing Draco bodily against the closet door and snogging the living daylights out of him.</p><p>Draco responded in an instant, groaning and grabbing Harry by the waist to pull him even closer. Wickedly, he bit Harry's lip at the same time. Harry reciprocated by slipping his hand through the front of Draco's robes and exploring his chest, sides and back with eager fingers - gently, too gently - and <em>oh</em> how he wanted to pin him and grip and grope and thrust without a care. Even so, the fact that he could <em>touch</em> Draco's body, even lightly, even through layers of clothes, and it made him feel so utterly curious and full of desire to linger in that unsatisfied state, like he was teasing himself - shaking the gift before opening it - was maddening and delightful, all at once.</p><p>He made himself break the kiss.</p><p>"Consider my debt paid," he said, looking through steamed glasses at Draco's open-mouthed expression.</p><p>Draco blinked, clearly dazed. "Fucking hell, Harry, if this isn't an IOU then I don't know what is."</p><p>"See you later?"</p><p>"Yeah."</p><p>The pair of them, blushing, straightened themselves out and - checking the corridor was empty - left.</p><p>Draco huffed. "You're lucky I can blame the leg for being late."</p><p>Harry risked a quick final kiss before dashing off to Herbology. Behind him, Draco touched his fingers to his lips, shook his head and limped off to the dungeons.</p><p>Harry managed to catch up to Ron half way to the greenhouses. The snow was still as thick as it had been all week, making running nearly impossible.</p><p>Ron was sporting an annoyingly knowing look.</p><p>"Where've <em>you</em> been?"</p><p>Harry could only manage a gasping whisper. "Draco. Closet. Sorry. Couldn't resist."</p><p>Ron grinned. "Knew it. I had the same trouble with Charms, before. How does he just sit there looking all... <em>edible</em> and expect you to be able to concentrate?"</p><p>It would be a strange conversation to have, if they hadn't already had it before. This entire week had been peppered with stolen kisses and increasingly desperate groping sessions. Sometimes two of them, sometimes all three.</p><p>"Argh. Yes. And I'm all... uhh. Well. Hot and bothered. How am I meant to get through the next hour?"</p><p>"Bunk off and make out behind the broomsheds again?"</p><p>Harry considered it.</p><p>"Ron. You're a goddamn genius."</p><p>"I know it."</p><p>The pair swerved off. They were so engrossed in their activities that they nearly missed the bell for lunch. Thankfully, Ron's stomach also reminded them by growling. Loudly. Harry looked up at him.</p><p>"You look err. Rather obviously like you've been kissing someone for the last hour," he commented.</p><p>"Ditto," Ron quipped. "It's bloody sexy, actually." He dipped his head back to Harry's neck.</p><p>Harry sighed and closed his eyes. He'd not seen in any tea leaves or tarot cards that Ronald Weasley, his best mate, would one day call his flushed, red-lipped face 'sexy' and he'd <em>like</em> it. And that Ron was even able to say something like that with total, bare-faced sincerity... it was...</p><p>
  <em>Hot.</em>
</p><p>Harry pushed him off and tucked his head against Ron's chest. Ron wrapped his arms around him and - much to Harry's chagrin that this was possible - rested his chin on his head.</p><p>"Need a few minutes to, uh, cool down," he muttered. Ron squeezed him in agreement.</p><p>After they'd straightened themselves out, the call of hot pumpkin juice and sandwiches grew strong enough to tempt them from their hiding spot. As they entered the Great Hall, Harry immediately heard a smug drawl echo in his head.</p><p>
  <em>'Late for lunch? Whatever could have kept you?'</em>
</p><p>Draco was sitting near their usual spot, having cosied up to Neville. Out loud, he said:</p><p>"So that's what Professor Tang is meaning with this comment, right? That you don't need to bother including the sourcing for that since it's common knowledge."</p><p>Neville groaned. "I'm never gonna get this..."</p><p>"Nonsense, Longbottom. Just a minor technicality. Now here's where you've <em>really</em> messed up..." Draco continued, pointing at Neville's essay.</p><p><em>'When you're done giving Neville a heart attack, wanna meet by the Muggle Studies showroom?'</em> Harry thought. The showroom was risky, but it had the benefit of not being outside in the snow.</p><p>Draco merely smirked to himself by way of reply. Harry whispered the plan to Ron.</p><p>Just then, a small ball of feathers came hurtling through a window and landed in Ron's soup, splattering it generously across the table.</p><p>"Pig, you useless twatting bird!" Ron growled as he picked cubes of vegetables off of his lap. The owl began eating the soup around it, seemingly oblivious. Ron grabbed its leg and wrestled the small note out of its - thankfully waterproof - leather bag.</p><p>"What is it?" Harry asked.</p><p>"Wrote to George the other day, hang on... oh, uh, he's wanting me to come help at the shop this weekend. End of January fire sale, and then set up for all the... Valentine's stuff." Ron blushed and shoved the note into his pocket. He wrapped a bunch of napkins around the sodden owl and, happily swaddled, left it against the edge of the bowl so it could continue eating the soup.</p><p>"Valentine's. Right."</p><p>Harry fought to keep a straight face. It wasn't something he'd thought about. It had only been a week since they'd officially... started doing whatever it was they were doing.</p><p>They both looked at each other before bursting into laughter.</p><p>Wiping his eye, Harry decided it was best to circumnavigate the subject.</p><p>"You gonna go?"</p><p>"Yeah, probably should. Not been since the holidays." Ron sighed. "I was kinda looking forward to this weekend though..." He waggled his eyebrows at Harry, leaning in dangerously close.</p><p>Harry shoved him - gently - away. "Dickhead."</p><p>"I mean... you're in the right <em>ballpark</em>."</p><p>"Oh my Godric, was that a pun? Is this what you were like with Hermione?"</p><p>Ron mocked a puzzled expression. "Oh no. Not at all." He grinned, wickedly. "I'm <em>way</em> worse with you guys."</p><p>Harry kicked him in the shin.</p><p>They finished lunch and headed up to the showroom. With most of Hogwarts still at lunch, the corridors were deserted. Draco had shared the timetable for who was using the room and when, so they knew they didn't have to worry about a class lining up outside in the next period. Still, they did their best to appear innocently interested in the toasters and microwave ovens display until Draco arrived, just in case.</p><p>He locked the door behind them - another privilege of working with Professor Collins - and twirled the keyring around his finger.</p><p>"You wanted to see me?" he said, the lightest tremor in his voice betraying something Harry couldn't distinguish as either nervousness or excitement. Or both. "Any reason in particular?"</p><p>"Yeah," Ron said, marching over and grabbing the blonde's hand. "My turn."</p><p>He stepped forward and pulled Draco towards him by the back of his neck, causing him to stagger slightly into the his embrace. Still trapping one hand in an awkward position, he groaned, low, deep in his throat, and kissed Draco's pale pink lips, which parted easily, letting Ron slip his tongue inside. Draco, for his part, darted his own tongue expertly in and out, exploring, teasing, licking and grazing against Ron's so that with each touch the sensation was heightened, sending sparks of arousal through them both.</p><p>Harry could feel the heat radiating from his core, spreading down between his legs and wakening his own arousal. Tentatively, he stepped forward. Breaking apart, both Ron and Draco gazed at him with hooded eyes, pupils dilated, and Ron reached for him, half-dragging him between them. Harry felt a sharp spike of something - perhaps fear - but that was soon swallowed as Ron bent to kiss him, and as he felt Draco simultaneously nibble on his neck. The trepidation he had been feeling faded away, replaced by a raw desire to do more, to feel more, to-</p><p>He growled as Draco bit his earlobe almost harshly, feeling the situation spiralling out of their control. Ron's kisses were wet, wild, almost painful. Draco had his arms wrapped around Harry's waist from behind, and he was unashamedly rocking against him as he peppered Harry's neck with bitemarks. Ron, too, was pressed up against Harry, his full body, the hardness, the softness of it, making Harry want to peel the layers of clothing off and feel the skin and the muscle directly under his fingertips.</p><p>It was Ron who broke the spell, minutes later. He laughed and rested his forehead against Harry's.</p><p>"If we don't stop I'll be in no state to look Hagrid in the eye, mate."</p><p>Harry could feel Draco stiffen behind him. "Gross, Weasley. You <em>had</em> to mention the half-giant while I was happily fantasising about Potter here on his knees."</p><p>Harry gulped. <em>On my knees... Merlin, is that something he uhh, wants me to do?</em> A second thought arrived shortly after the first: <em>Uh yeah. Of course it is. Don't you want the same?</em></p><p><em>Yes</em>.</p><p>Thoughts whirling, he wriggled free and brushed himself down, trying not to let the panicked feeling that was coming over him in waves transmit to his face.</p><p>Draco took the opportunity to bridge the gap he'd left and snog Ron forcefully, so that by the time his was done both of them were gasping for air. Harry tried not to drool at the unbelievable sight of the pair of them groping at each other. Somehow, each of these snatched moments together were more intense than the last - and they had been pretty intense to begin with. Now that Draco was feeling better and better, he had a maddeningly skilful way of appearing both aloof and utterly available, both distant and welcoming. Like with one glance he could convey that he was some unattainable creature that had deigned to bind himself to them, and, all at once, a real, vulnerable, achingly broken thing that radiated a kind of irresistible neediness.</p><p>
  <em>What on earth am I thinking?</em>
</p><p>As if Draco had heard his thoughts - and perhaps he had - he turned to Harry and pinned him with a look that begged him to come back into their little huddle, and also flashed coldly with doubt or self-doubt, perhaps.</p><p>It sent a chill through Harry's spine.</p><p>And, it made him want the blonde even more than ever. He felt his feet move against his will as he leaned in to snog him once more, so intensely that he could sense, underneath Draco's projected confidence, the smallest whimper, the desperate need to be touched, and that crack in his armour made Harry want to dig the knife in, deeper, twist it apart, and explore what lay on the other side. Was there just darkness there? 'Nothing', like Draco had screamed at Ron outside the Owlery? He bit Draco's lip, tasting iron but not caring as he pushed him up against Ron, who staggered to the side.</p><p>"Steady on, Harry," he heard Ron say, distantly.</p><p>Beneath him, Draco was shivering and his hands were balled into fists, trapped between their bodies. The warmth from before had turned into a fire, too hot - like if they kept this up both of them would catch light and burn - burn the whole castle down, scorch the earth. Draco was making sounds that were like the pained cries of a wounded animal, but he was snogging Harry back as if he <em>wanted</em> to be that helpless prey, caught between Harry's teeth.</p><p>Harry felt Ron hands stroking his back. He felt Ron gently kissing beneath his ear as he pulled them apart, kissing constantly, touching them both as he detangled them, slowly placing himself between them like a referee at a fight, but still holding them close as he pried them apart. Eventually, he was holding both of their hands, eyeing them as they stood apart, breathing. To Harry's shame, he noticed Draco's lip was bleeding slightly.</p><p>"You look like you've been in a ruddy fight," Ron said, disapprovingly.</p><p>Draco smeared the blood onto the back of his hand and stared at it. He looked up at Harry, blinking as if he had just awoken from a deep sleep.</p><p>"Sorry," Harry blurted out. Ron squeezed his hand.</p><p>Draco shrugged. "No, I, uh. I liked it." It was his turn to blush.</p><p>"That was kind of hot at first, but I think it was going a bit far, right? I know I'm hardly one to talk..." said Ron.</p><p>Harry nodded, not trusting himself to speak.</p><p>"Look, let's uh. Calm down a bit and then we can head to class, yeah? The bell's got to go soon, I bet."</p><p>Ron pulled them down to the ground to sit in a circle. The air was thick with tension as each of them, lost in thought, sat in silence for a few minutes.</p><p>Harry coughed. "So. You're going to George's this weekend, yeah?"</p><p>Ron looked up at him with relief. "Yeah.</p><p>"My brother, runs a shop on Diagon Alley nowadays. I Apparate over and help sometimes," he said, for Draco's benefit.</p><p>Draco pouted and crossed his arms. "I remember. The whole weekend? I figured we would use that time to... you know." He licked a little smear of blood from his lips, deliberately.</p><p>Ron went firetruck red. The blush faded down his neck towards the knotted cord that for some reason Harry found himself staring it. There was something about the flushed, pale, freckled skin and the tightness of that cord...</p><p>He'd forgotten what it was like having someone - <em>someones</em> - that he was attracted to. He couldn't quite bring himself to think the word 'relationship' for what the three of them had. But the fact was he couldn't stop thinking about them. In class he was half tormented by memories - real, actual memories - of the sight of them kissing one another behind broomsheds and in hidden corners around the castle and its grounds. Those facts were mad and terrifying and thrilling and like nothing Harry had ever experienced before. And the thought of... what <em>more</em> they could do... the images in his mind of his and Ron's nightly over-the-clothes handjobs, the thought of Draco sucking his best friend off in an empty classroom, and the idea that they might take it even further than that...</p><p>Yes, Harry had had sex before.</p><p>But what he was imagining, the anticipation of it, was on a whole other level. And they were hurtling towards something irreversible, something that felt inevitable, yet unreal. At least, that's why he thought was happening... He frowned. Was that the plan? Was there a plan?</p><p>Not one for subtlety or finesse, he decided to just come out and say it.</p><p>"You want us to have sex."</p><p>Draco gaped.</p><p>"Harry Potter. You don't mess around."</p><p>Harry shrugged, thoughts coalescing. "We're guys. I don't think we're gonna last much longer with make out sessions in the snow.</p><p>"But I don't know how to do, uh. It. And I assume you have no idea either, Ron. And I don't know about you, but I'm so horny right now I don't know what to do with myself. But I'm kind of freaked out by pretty much all of this, so I don't know what to do with that feeling. And though this is all new, we've been dancing around each other for months and I'm... uhhh... I think we either do something about this or we end up killing each other or something. So, yeah. I reckon I'm a bit overwhelmed by everything. Uh. All that to say I'm sorry about your lip."</p><p>Draco nodded. "Yeah. I'm sorry, too. I know this is all new for you. I don't mean to make light of that. I just..." He walked his fingertips over Ron's knee. "I want to know if this is real. If this is going somewhere. If it means anything. I'm not like you two. I haven't had years of friendship to rely on - to fall back on. I'm out on a limb, here. I'm not good at letting people in. Least of all... Godric, least of all two people I would never, ever have considered... being with."</p><p>Ron took Draco's hand.</p><p>"Look, Draco. I know we've all had our differences, but I think you and Harry have the most err, troubled history, right? I know what page I'm on with you. We've talked a lot, already. Enough that I'm done thinking about it, frankly. I'm not afraid of any of it. Fuck - I'm starting to feel like I'm doing what's right for me for the first time in bloody ever. But you two need some more time to hash things out.</p><p>"I'm going to George's tonight, so while I'm away, why don't you spend some time together?"</p><p>Draco quirked his head. "Are you sure? I might just steal him away, you know."</p><p>"Uh huh. Sure you will. What do you think, Harry?"</p><p>
  <em>I think if you leave me alone with Draco Malfoy for a whole weekend you might come back to find us both in the hospital wing, this time.</em>
</p><p>But that was before.</p><p>Now...</p><p>"Yeah. It's a good idea."</p><p>Ron grinned. "And if Draco teaches you anything interesting, then you can show me when I get back."</p><p>"Wh-what?" Harry stuttered.</p><p>Draco chuckled. "Is that a free pass, Wea - sorry, Ron? If so I'll take it."</p><p>Just then, the bell rang, signalling the end of lunch.</p><p>"See you later? I can um... I have a spare sleeping draught I can sneak Theo, maybe?" Draco asked as they got up - Ron and Harry had to help him as his leg was still not fully co-operating - and walked towards the door.</p><p>"Yeah," Harry said. "Godric, that sounds like an insane plan. But yeah. Sure."</p><p>The three of them parted ways, though not before Ron stole a kiss on Draco's cheek.</p><p>Ron sighed as they walked to Care of Magical Creatures. "If I didn't know Hermione would kill us for doing any of this, I'd show off this big ol' old emotional range I've developed. Think she'd be proud."</p><p>"But she would definitely kill us."</p><p>"Oh for sure."</p><p>That night, Harry saw Ron off at the edge of the lake. He spent the evening doing homework with Hermione and Anthony, just a scant few feet away from the other table, where Draco was once again helping Neville with redrafting his essay. The other ex-Slytherins weren't around. However, Harry spotted the pair getting a lot of strange looks from the ex-Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs in the Den. And he noted Draco's carefully schooled expression, perfectly crafted to demonstrate neutrality, bland helpfulness and a posture that screamed 'I am not a threat'.</p><p>Neville, for his part, just seemed grateful for the help. Any help.</p><p>Harry stared at his own potions essay and made a mental note to enquire about Draco's tutoring services for himself. He wrote another sentence in large cursive, hoping to fill the required fifteen inches of parchment before he ran out of things to say.</p><p>Before they left to go to bed, Harry remembered something, and pulled Hermione aside, citing a 'personal question' to Anthony. He explained his plan to her - as much as he was able to divulge. Thankfully, she was intrigued by the problem and, hardly prompted, offered to do some research.</p><p><em>I sure hope that works</em>, he mused, as he got ready for bed. <em>And soon.</em></p><p>He waited until he heard the choir-like rumbling of three snoring dormmates. It took longer than he'd hoped. Seamus and Dean had stayed up late arguing about the upcoming Quidditch league match. Then, he snuck out of the bed, pulled the invisibility cloak over his head and tip-toed out of the room.</p><p><em>Should I knock?</em> Harry thought, standing awkwardly outside Draco's dorm door. He decided that was probably a bad idea. Instead, he pushed open the door.</p><p>It was dark; the only light the moonlight streaming in from the windows. One bed was empty - Zabini's old bed. The other two had their curtains closed.</p><p>Harry crept over the stone floor towards Draco's bed. He peaked through the curtains.</p><p>He'd never seen Draco asleep before. He must've drifted off. He'd kicked the covers to the foot of the bed. His plain white shirt had ridden up, exposing a slim, flat stomach and a trail of translucent hair trailing from his belly-button. The bruises were practically gone. His head was leaning to one side, facing Harry, and his eyes were screwed shut. He was panting, slightly. A bead of sweat was making its way across his forehead.</p><p>It was a state Harry recognised instantly. Draco Malfoy was having a nightmare.</p><p>Feeling as Ron must've felt when he would do so for Harry, he slipped the invisibility cloak off, closed the curtains and climbed into the unfamiliar bed. He pulled Draco's head against his chest and started to rub his back in circles. Draco must've woken at the touch, because instantly he stiffened, gasped and started to shove Harry away.</p><p>"Draco. Don't panic. It's just me," he whispered.</p><p>"Wha? Who the fuck is 'just me'. What's going on? Where's mum?" Draco gabbled, half asleep still.</p><p>"It's all going to be ok. Just wake up, Draco."</p><p>"B-but they're taking her. She won't survive Azkaban. She's not strong enough."</p><p>Harry grimaced in the dark. He too remembered that day at the trials. He remembered the tears on Mrs. Malfoy's face as they announced her sentence. He remembered how she reached for Draco's hand, but was pulled away before their fingers could touch.</p><p>"You're not there anymore. You're here. In Hogwarts. Come on."</p><p>Finally, Draco seemed to be waking properly. Harry couldn't see his face, but he sensed a change as the other boy stopped pushing him away and started to pull him close. He buried his face into Harry's chest and his shoulders shuddered as a sob wracked his body. Not knowing quite what to do, Harry settled for running his fingers through Draco's hair until he'd gathered himself enough to lie still.</p><p>"Sorry," he heard Draco whisper. Then, more loudly, "Ugh. I'm a mess."</p><p>Harry sat up and cast <em>lumos</em> before he could protest. He wasn't wrong. Draco's face was blotchy and tracked with tears, and his upper lip shone with mucus. Draco yelped and covered his face with both hands.</p><p>"Warn me before you do that!" he complained between his fingers.</p><p>"Here." Harry concentrated and conjured a handkerchief out of thin air. "Blow your nose."</p><p>Draco did so, not quite managing to maintain a dignified air throughout, given the long, loud, squelching noise his blocked sinuses made in the process.</p><p>Still, at least it left them both grinning.</p><p>"Sure he won't have heard that?" Harry said, jerking his head to indicate towards Nott's bed.</p><p>"It was a good sleeping potion. Trust me. Though now I wish I'd taken it, 'cause that was not pleasant."</p><p>Draco reached past Harry, bringing their faces within millimetres, and grabbed his wand from the bedside table. He disappeared the handkerchief and its contents with a swift spell.</p><p>Harry had to ask. "Do you have nightmares a lot?"</p><p>Draco groaned. He ran his hand through his hair, trying to flatten it a little.</p><p>"Yeah, I do. Usually about the Dark Lord. Sometimes other stuff. Like when you... when we thought you'd died. I get that one at least once a week, honestly. You looked so white and limp and... it was like there wasn't any air anymore. Or hope. And I dream about getting this fucking thing on my arm. Relive that pain, over and over. Sometimes sleeping draughts help. Sometimes they don't."</p><p>He laughed, sadly. "And I don't have the Weasel to cuddle every night."</p><p>"That sucks. I dream about Voldemort, too." Harry, as usual, ignored the flinch at his name. "I don't know if it will ever really stop, honestly."</p><p>He dimmed his wand's light again, shuffled himself under the covers and dragged Draco back against him. Feeling like he was delivering a corny line, but not caring, he said: "But anyway. I'm here now. So maybe that will help?"</p><p>"My hero," Draco drawled, sounding much more like himself.</p><p>"Shut up."</p><p>"Make me."</p><p>Harry did so. The kisses were salty, at first. As Draco switched their positions so he had Harry pinned against the pillow and he was plundering his mouth from above, Harry couldn't help but think that here, now, there was nothing stopping them... And maybe, if he hadn't been so thrown by Draco crying in front of him, that would've freaked him out. But now...</p><p>With Ron, sure, they had snogged themselves silly every night. And rutted against one another, rubbing one another through their boxers until... well. But something had held them at that point, going no further. Perhaps it was Draco's comments about not wanting to be left out. Perhaps it was that neither of them had any experience with a guy and the thought of what to do next was altogether too terrifying for either of them to quite pluck up the courage to initiate.</p><p>But the same issue did not seem to be occurring here. Not at <em>all.</em> Because Draco was pulling up Harry shirt and - <em>fuck -</em> sucking on his nipple, and lingering there just long enough to make it hard before trailing more kisses down his stomach and nipping at the waistband of Harry's pyjama trousers with his teeth.</p><p><em>Gods</em>...</p><p>Harry lifted his hips, ever so slightly, and felt cool fingers slip under the waistband to pull them downward. And before he could think anything else, all thoughts vanished from his mind as Draco <em>fucking</em> Malfoy took the tip of his cock in between his lips.</p><p>The blonde didn't mess around, either. He sucked hungrily, flicking his tongue back and forth across the slit of his cock in a way that shot bolts of pleasure deep into Harry's stomach. He licked from the base to the tip, then took the whole shaft in his mouth, before drawing away completely. He waited just long enough for Harry to wriggle his hips beneath his hands, then swallowed his cock once more, before drawing away again. He kept this up, slowly sucking all the way to the base, before pulling away with a light pop of suction being released.</p><p>"Please. You're driving me fucking crazy here," Harry begged. He gripped fistfuls of the sheet under him. Sweat was dripping down the inside of his bent knees as his legs quivered with need.</p><p>Draco responded by wrapping one hand around the base of his cock and sucking on the end as he moved his head and hand up and down, rhythmically, persistently, firmly. Harry practically blacked out as the intensity built- but then Draco let go again, and returned to long, slow deep-throating.</p><p>Harry groaned in frustration and bucked his hips upwards. To his horror, Draco pulled back.</p><p>"Fuck," he heard him swear in the dark.</p><p>Half mad with need, Harry propped himself up on his elbows. "Why'd you stop?" he said, his voice low and gravelly.</p><p>"My fucking leg. Sorry, Harry, not to ruin the mood or anything but this is playing hell with my knee. Maybe a, uh, different position, or something?"</p><p>Harry squinted at him, just about able to make him out with the little moonlight that filtered through a gap in the curtain.</p><p>"I have an idea," he said, impulsively. What was the word Ron had used earlier? <em>Edible...</em></p><p>Blood pulsing with Gryffindor bravery, he lunged for Draco and pushed him back onto the bed.</p><p>"How 'bout I try?"</p><p>A thought at the back of Harry's head was quite pleased at the squeak that escaped Draco's lips. He bent and suckled on Draco's hipbone, hard enough to leave a mark. Then, he placed his palm against the tenting of Draco's boxer shorts - he wasn't wearing trousers - and gripped the pulsing cock there. It was a gesture he'd already become quite familiar with. But this was different. Draco felt different. Now, almost distracted by curiosity, he knelt on the bed and pulled the blonde's boxers off. Draco's member practically sprung upwards.</p><p>
  <em>What was it he did? Something like...</em>
</p><p>Harry dipped his head and carefully licked the tip of Draco's cock. He felt the thighs at either side of his head clamp together around his ears. He pushed them apart.</p><p>"Hey," he admonished, chuckling.</p><p>"This is insane. We are insane. This is a mad dream that I'm having and Harry Potter is not voluntarily, willingly about to suck my cock."</p><p>"Hmm," Harry hummed, his lips already around the weeping tip of Draco's member. He let go - feeling at once empowered and 'scared shitless', as Ron would've put it - and said, "I am. If you want me to?"</p><p>"Gods yes."</p><p>"Good."</p><p>Harry returned to puzzling out what he was going to do next. He tried doing what Draco had done - drawing the length of him into his throat, but realised that he might need some practice before he took that route as his gag reflex kicked in and he nearly choked. Instead, he wrapped his hand around the base of the shaft, placed his tongue against the smooth, wet head of Draco's cock and sucked steadily, moving up and down.</p><p>It was strange doing it with another person, but not everything was totally unfamiliar. After all, he'd been relieving himself for several years, now. He adjusted his grip, tighter, softer, just how he liked it himself, and changed up the rhythm enough to elicit periodic gasps from Draco's mouth. Slowly, he built up the speed, increased the pressure. He was so focused, he barely processed what Draco was whispering between frantic breaths, until-</p><p>"Fuck. Wait. Gods. You are unrelenting, you know that? Fuck, fuck, fu-"</p><p>To both their surprise, Draco came, biting his palm to swallow the yell that bubbled out between his lips. The hot, slightly bitter fluid pulsed into Harry's mouth, and something utterly depraved in his brain howled in victory as he lapped up every drop. Seconds later, he leaned back on his heels, took himself in his hand and with just a a few strokes, came, shooting strands of cum over Draco's thighs and stomach.</p><p>Not caring how sticky they both were, he crawled up to straddle Draco and, finding his mouth in the dark, kissed him. Draco moaned as he tasted himself on Harry's tongue and threaded his fingers through the shock of Harry's hair, deepening their kiss.</p><p>"That was," Harry started, before being interrupted by a snog, "Bloody." More snogging. "Amazing."</p><p>"You're telling me, Boy Who Fellated," Draco quipped, before groaning as Harry kissed him fiercely.</p><p>"You're <em>so</em> not allowed to call me that."</p><p>"Sure you've never done that before? Or have you and Weasley been lying about how far you've gone?"</p><p>Harry shook his head, then remembered Draco couldn't see him. "I swear. Never done that before in my life. Fucking hell."</p><p>"Then I take this as a challenge. Gauntlet thrown, Harry Potter."</p><p>"Huh?"</p><p>"Let's have Ronald judge, shall we?"</p><p>"Judge what?"</p><p>"Who gives better head, of course."</p><p>Harry snorted. "You're not serious."</p><p>Draco wrapped his arms around Harry and rolled them over so his full weight pressed against him. Harry could feel the smile on his lips as he kissed him.</p><p>"Oh, I am."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0026"><h2>26. Clearing the Air</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Harry was waiting by the great stone wall along the East Wing of the castle. The sun shone weakly overhead, pale, but bright enough to melt the top layer of snow so it crunched underfoot. He breathed a cloud into the air, trying to settle the butterflies in his stomach.</p><p>"We're up half the night and you had me miss breakfast for this, so it better be good, Potter."</p><p>Harry jumped, then grinned at the sight of Draco stomping through the snow. He was wearing a bulky woollen hat and scarf combination that half buried his face in fabric.</p><p>"Harry," he admonished.</p><p>"At this time in the morning, without coffee, it's Potter."</p><p>"Oh! Uh, hang on..."</p><p>Harry pulled his satchel round and after a brief search pulled out a flask and shook it in Draco's face. The blonde's eyes lit up and he clasped the container with both hands. He took a sip from the steaming metal rim and smacked his lips.</p><p>"<em>Harry</em>. I could kiss you."</p><p>Harry looked around. There were a few shapes walking in the distance, but it was enough to make his mouth dry. Draco noticed where his eyes were roaming and glanced in their direction.</p><p>"They can't tell it's us," he said, but with a serious tone that prompted Harry to get to the matter at hand. Which was...</p><p>He picked up his Firebolt from where it was leaning against the wall.</p><p>"We're going flying."</p><p>"I feel ridiculous," Draco grumbled, moments later, from behind him as they marched their way across the field towards the Forbidden Forest.</p><p>"Just hold on and keep up."</p><p>"There has to have been a better way to do this."</p><p>Draco was wrapped in the invisibility cloak and was walking behind Harry, placing his own feet in Harry's footsteps so as to leave one track in the snow. He had one hand wrapped in Harry's cloak to help him keep balance.</p><p>Or, at least, that was the idea.</p><p>Just then, Draco stumbled over the edge of the invisibility cloak and Harry felt the sudden pressure of his body against his back. They paused as Draco swore and unhooked the cloak from under his boot.</p><p>In reality, it was proving a difficult manoeuvre and Draco an unwilling participant. It was only the promise of flight that had him agreeing to Harry's - admittedly - poorly thought-through plan.</p><p>Nevertheless, they finally made it to the partially sheltered edge of the forest, where, sheltered by the trees, Harry managed to swallow Draco's stream of complaints with a single kiss.</p><p>"I figure from this distance no-one will be able to see much. They'll think it's just me, if anything," Harry said. He mounted the broom.</p><p>Draco raised an eyebrow. "Who is up at this time to stalk your every step? Apart from me, I mean. Will people really be paying that much attention?"</p><p>"Perks of the Chosen One. Someone always seems to be watching. But I think we're safe enough if we fly low over the forest. Come on."</p><p>Giving in, Draco hopped on the broom behind him, snaking his hands around Harry's hips. Harry could smell the warm, coffee scent on his breath. A similar taste lingered on his own lips. Lips that had, only hours before, been wrapped around... He shook his head. With a push against the ground, he kicked off into the air, soaring upward as fast as the Firebolt could go and eliciting a yelp from Draco, who squeezed Harry's waist as they shot into the clouds.</p><p>"I thought you said we'd stay low!"</p><p>Harry grinned. At the apex of their climb, he pointed the end of the broom towards the dark green teeth of the trees below.</p><p>"Oh yeah, so I did!" he said, and took them both in a dive that left their ears ringing, before he brought them up just short of crashing into the branches of a particularly knotted pine.</p><p>He felt Draco prod him in the back as they floated along, feet skimming the treetops.</p><p>"You know, it's not like I've never flown before. What're you trying to do, get me to cling to you for safety?"</p><p>Harry lurched to one side and spun them upside-down.</p><p>"Is it working?"</p><p>"Oh Chosen One, save me , save me," Draco drawled in a monotone. Still, Harry did enjoy the feeling of his arms tightening around his waist - even if it was simply to counteract the effects of gravity.</p><p>He righted them.</p><p>"Oh good, my hat nearly came off then. Right - where to next on our little date?"</p><p>Harry felt himself stiffen involuntarily at the word. He hadn't been thinking of this as a... well... as a... <em>date</em>. He'd just known that Draco wasn't permitted to fly this year and it'd seemed like a good idea at the time... Unbidden, the memory of a cringe-worthy afternoon spent at Madam Puddifoot's lace-covered tea shop with Cho Chang came to mind.</p><p>
  <em>Oh Merlin, this IS a date. And I am NOT good on dates...</em>
</p><p>They were flying in silence over the trees, Harry so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he wasn't really paying attention to which direction he was going. And then, below them, a familiar clearing opened up. The sight of which sent a chill down Harry's spine that had nothing to do with the crisp winter air, and that dispelled all thoughts of bad dates.</p><p>
  <em>Shit. It's here.</em>
</p><p>But now that they were here, he felt compelled to fly down onto that untouched circle of snow. It'd been what, eight, nine months? And so much had changed in so little time. What would it feel like, to stand there again?</p><p>They landed. Draco dismounted, gracefully. Harry, less so.</p><p>"Is this wise? As I recall, this forest has a tendency to attack me," Draco grumbled, looking around warily at the shadowed edges of the clearing.</p><p>"So... was this the plan? Take me off into the woods? Have your way with me against a tree or something like that? Because if so, let me stop you right there because... Hey, are you even listening to me?"</p><p>Harry was staring at a spot beside a familiar twisted tree root. He walked the few steps over to it, crouched and touched the unblemished snow with his fingertips.</p><p>"Is this because of the date thing? If you don't want to call it that that's fine you know, I was joking of course... Is there something I'm missing here? Where are we?"</p><p>Harry didn't turn.</p><p>"This was the site of Voldemort's camp. On the day of the Battle."</p><p>There was a pause.</p><p>"What a fucking romantic you are. You're not serious? You brought me <em>here.</em> Do you realise what it would look like if I were found snooping around this Death Eater camp? Oh no sir, just here to snog the Boy Who Lived, not up to anything nefarious at all. That sounds plausible. Fuck's sake."</p><p>"I died here, you know."</p><p>Draco huffed and marched over, appearing at Harry's eye level as he crouched beside him.</p><p>"What, right here?" Draco pointed.</p><p>"Yeah."</p><p>"Well... you don't look half bad for a dead guy."</p><p>Harry felt his lip twitch. "Thanks."</p><p>"Now <em>after</em> I strangle you, on the other hand..."</p><p>"Narcissa... your mum was here. She um... she saved me, actually." Harry traced a pattern in the snow with his finger as he spoke. "You probably don't know this. I didn't give the details in my public statement at the trial, but I told the judge and Kingsley in private... I wanted to tell anyone who would listen. Honest. I told them what she did for me. They said it was better for her to be sentenced with everyone else... that it didn't make up for years of conspiring with Lord Voldemort. And that it would put a target on her back for any Death Eaters or sympathisers that had gone to ground. 'The witch who saved Harry Potter.' They said doing anything else would make her vulnerable to attack on both sides."</p><p>Draco was staring at him like he'd grown two heads.</p><p>"What in Godric's name are you talking about?"</p><p>Harry stood and walked off, running his hands through his hair so it stuck up at all angles. He felt the gentle pressure of Draco's hand on his shoulder.</p><p>"Voldemort killed me. Sort of. I came back. I can't tell you why or how. Trust me. No-one but Dumbledore and perhaps Snape knew the whole story. It's something I intend to take to my grave, too. But the important thing is, when he ordered your mum to tell him if I was dead, she... she lied. She said I was."</p><p>Draco pressed on his shoulder, spinning him slowly around so they were facing one another. He cocked his head to one side.</p><p>"Why?"</p><p>Harry blushed. "She... she wanted to know if you were alive. If you were hurt. She wanted me to... protect you."</p><p>"Really? But the Dark Lord..."</p><p>"He was right there. If he hadn't believed her... she risked her life to protect me, but... I think it was all for you, really."</p><p>Draco looked taken aback. "She always did look out for our family before everything else. So if she had simply said you were alive-"</p><p>"-I never would've made it out of this clearing."</p><p>"Fuck." Draco frowned. "And yet the Ministry still decided to sentence her to Azkaban? I grant you our family's history, but she... she should have been thanked, awarded even, not thrown in prison. If I'd known... Shit. Harry, there's got to be something I can do?"</p><p>Harry grimaced. He remembered making the same arguments, faced with the patronisingly sympathetic but unyielding looks of the ministers and advisors. He shook his head.</p><p>"Believe me. I tried. The outcome of the trial was the compromise. You were there. You saw how furious the papers were that your parents' sentences were so low compared to others."</p><p>Draco threw his hands up. "And lucky me, I got to come back to this ruddy place, while my parents... while my mother, the woman who as I now understand it is owed a great debt from the whole of the wizarding world, rot in a cell. Hooray for compromises."</p><p>"Hey. At least you didn't end up in that cell with them."</p><p>"Fan-bloody-tastic. Look, can we leave? I'd rather not linger here any longer."</p><p>The ride back was considerably more uncomfortable that the journey there. Not least because neither of them found a way to break the silence. When they landed, Draco followed Harry to the castle, thanked him stiffly for the ride, and marched off. His eyes weren't the icy walled-off grey Harry had seen so many times that year, but a storm of dark emotions, billowing like smoke from a broken window pane.</p><p><em>Nice one, Harry. You really buggered that up, didn't you?</em> His traitorous inner voice piped up as he headed up to the Den.</p><p>Another, even deeper, voice joined in. <em>Was it wise to tell Draco Malfoy of all people about that day?</em></p><p>Harry couldn't help but remember the sneers, the lies, the jibes, the plans and manipulations. Things had changed. He believed that, right? Otherwise he wouldn't be, well, sleeping with him, for Godric's sake. But still, the thought lingered... <em>Can I really trust him?</em></p><p>Feeling like they both needed some space - OK, so Draco was pointedly ignoring him and Harry felt, suddenly, much inclined to do the same, his bloody fizzing a little as an old anger reared its head - Harry spent the rest of the weekend in the library with Hermione, researching. Hermione had, thankfully, narrowed the solutions to his little conundrum down into two categories: time reversal magic and containment. Given her experience with the time-turner, Hermione had volunteering to pursue that line of enquiry, leaving Harry with containment spells, enchantments and so on. The dusty old books, however, were more preoccupied with issuing dire and foreboding warnings than helpful remedies.</p><p>Late on Sunday evening, Harry headed out to the lake to meet Ron on his way back from George's. The air was cool, but not the icy cold it had been. Some of the snow had melted and much of the grounds were now a grey and muddy mush from numerous snowball fights.</p><p>"How'd it go?" Ron asked before he'd even landed.</p><p>Harry had been expecting this question, and yet, somehow, couldn't think of how to explain the weekend's events.</p><p>"Uhh. Good. At first. Then not so good. I may have fucked it up a bit."</p><p>"Is he mad?"</p><p>"Possibly. He's not talked to me today at all."</p><p>"Huh. Oh well."</p><p>"Oh well?"</p><p>As they headed back to the front entrance, Ron chuckled. "I was half expecting to return to half a castle, Harry. You two in a huff with each other just sounds like you at least managed to communicate enough to piss one another off. On my scale of expected outcomes, that sounds about right."</p><p>"Isn't he the one that's meant to be into all this psychology stuff? Anyway, I don't think I pissed him off. Not exactly. I think I... I think I just took him on possibly the worst date of all dates in the history of dates."</p><p>"Ha!" Ron laughed. "Wicked. Right, how bad? Madam Puddifoot's bad?"</p><p>"I brought him to the clearing in the forest, the one where Voldemort and I... yeah."</p><p>Ron whistled. "Mazin' job there, Harry."</p><p>"Didn't mean to. Just happened," Harry muttered to himself, crossing his arms. Ron pulled him into a sideways hug.</p><p>"That is truly-" Ron kissed his fingertips to his lips "-<em>magnifico</em>."</p><p>"Shut up."</p><p>"So, let's go find him, steal him away and make him forget he ever got annoyed in the first place. But first..."</p><p>Ron reached into his pocket and pulled out the same flask from the Christmas Ball. Harry groaned.</p><p>"That's not more of that paint-stripper, is it?"</p><p>"Hair of the dog, Harry. Come on. With the weekend I've had, I need it. Sounds like you do, too."</p><p>It took them all of ten minutes to head up to the dorm, greet and feed Severina, Ron to change (sadly, Neville was studying at his desk so Harry had to pretend not to ogle him as he did so) and, in so doing, drink enough that they were both quite tipsy by the time they headed downstairs. A few eighth years were milling about. Seamus was in the book nook making appreciative sounds as he snogged Ursula Spence's sister - whose name Harry couldn't remember. In his head, her name was - rather hideously - 'Babes.' It was, after all, the only thing Seamus called her.</p><p>And Draco was with Blair Zabini at one of the fold-out tables. They were playing a game of wizarding chess. By the looks of his furrowed brow, it wasn't going as smoothly as he would've liked.</p><p>Before Harry could stop him, Ron strutted up to the table, folded his arms and gave the game an appraising eye.</p><p>"Aaah. See what you're getting at, Zabini. S'nice. Boxes in the rook. Left him a <em>very</em> narrow corridor for attack there."</p><p>Blair blinked up at him like a cat who'd got the cream. She didn't seem perturbed in the least at Ron's sudden appearance, which Harry found odd only in retrospect. Now, though, he was feeling warm and relaxed and the room was just ever so slightly off-kilter, in a fun way.</p><p>"Yes. Poor Draco here has been fretting over his next move for nearly five minutes now. Any chance you could hurry him along? I hear you play."</p><p>"That is absolutely not happening," Draco huffed. He reached for a piece and Harry tried not to giggle at Ron's dramatic intake of breath.</p><p>Ron let out the air in a slow whistle. "I wouldn't do that. king-side bishop takes your pawn next, right? Then you're planning on moving the queen to block her knight, which means she's going to counter with <em>her</em> knight. That leaves you open from the right, though. You can take the next pawn in return but she'll still have control over two-thirds of the board, and since you sacrificed your pawn and you're already down a bishop, you can't afford a war of attrition."</p><p>Draco folded his arms. "Fine. So what <em>should</em> I do?"</p><p>Ron grinned. "I'll tell you, but Harry and I need to talk to you. And uh... Professor Collins. Yeah, he needs us for something. Might take a while."</p><p>"Tell him I'll talk tomorrow."</p><p>"Nope!" Ron countered, cheerfully. "Has to be now. So let's finish up this game and get this over with, right? I've got it in four moves."</p><p>"I'll do it myself, in my own time, thank you for butting in, <em>Weasel</em>."</p><p>Zabini yawned. "I for one, want to see what Weasley's got. I count myself the winner in three if you make the right move. Or the wrong one, depending on your perspective."</p><p>Draco growled. "Fine." He stood and gestured at the seat. "Get on with it then."</p><p>Ron sat down and cracked his knuckles. Harry edged closer as he picked up the queen and placed her half way up the board.</p><p>Zabini leaned forward. She considered the queen, shrugged, and moved her bishop.</p><p>Ron smiled. "Ooh. That's a shame. Right, if I do this, do you see where it's headed?" He picked up one of the white knights and used it to take Zabini's rook. She looked increasingly puzzled.</p><p>"That leaves you exposed? Check."</p><p>"Sure does," Ron said, moving his bishop. "But not for long. And that's <em>you</em> in check."</p><p>Light seemed to dawn in Zabini's eyes. She put her elbows on the table and rested her hands against her forehead. "I could move the knight?"</p><p>"All that does is drag this out two more moves, Zabini. Same outcome if you bring in a sacrificial pawn. Just do what you were going to and I'll end it quick."</p><p>On the board, the white queen blew a raspberry at the black king.</p><p>"He's right, you know. Don't know how I didn't see it," Draco said, sounding interested despite himself.</p><p>"Face it. Better chess player. Now come on, let's go. Uh. Git."</p><p>Harry rather hoped Zabini was too busy replaying the game in her head to notice Ron's terrible acting.</p><p>Out in the corridor, they headed for the Muggle Studies showroom, which had the benefit of being locked, dark and deserted. The minute they were alone, Draco turned round, lit one of the braziers with a flick of his wand and tutted in a passable interpretation of Pomfrey.</p><p>"In the Den. In front of everyone. And drunk, by your breath. Are you trying to get us found out? If I hadn't just witnessed you trounce Zabini I would think you're both sharing a brain between you. I'm still not convinced that's not the case."</p><p>"No-one's gonna care. 'Sides, Zabini knows about Collins right?" Ron asked.</p><p>Draco nodded.</p><p>"See? It's all good. The way I see it I've bought us an hour or two. And I've had a <em>very</em> frustrating weekend."</p><p>Harry felt a thrill through his body. A spark flared in his chest. It was quickly doused by Draco's sneer.</p><p>"Look, I'm not feeling up for playing into your weird hero fantasies. I thought the whole point of this was to start from scratch, but Harry here figured it was a good idea to bring up the bloody war and the Dark Lord and all of it. So that's it. Rule broken. I'm out."</p><p>"Harry?" Ron nodded for him to speak.</p><p>"Uh. Sorry. I honestly didn't intend to go there. Just saw it and... had to. I hadn't been since that day. Figured I owed it to you to tell you about your mum."</p><p>"And Draco, what are you sorry for?" Ron asked.</p><p>Draco gaped at him, clearly not expecting the question. "I... uh. What? Nothing!"</p><p>Ron handed him the flask. "Drink. Spill. Talk. I don't think he broke a rule. He said he wanted us to keep talking."</p><p>Curiosity getting the better of him, Draco sniffed the flask and coughed as the fumes tickled his sinuses. Nevertheless, he took a swing.</p><p>"Fine," he said, wiping his lip. "I'm..." He sighed and muttered something to himself that sounded a lot like 'Ruddy Collins and his ruddy circle'. "I'm not mad at Harry, I'm mad at bloody everything else. Everyone else. At this school. At the kids that run whenever I walk down the corridor. At the papers that called my father a traitor to all wizards and witches - and yes, I know what he is. But he has his beliefs and I don't think that makes him a traitor. And I'm mad at the fact my mother was brave enough to lie to Lord V-Voldemort's face, but is still being punished for crimes by association."</p><p>"Anything else?"</p><p>"I'm mad I would've lost that chess game."</p><p>Ron laughed, swigged from the flask and handed it back to him.</p><p>"OK, well <em>I'm</em> mad 'cause mum ambushed me at the shop. Professor Sprout wrote her directly. Told her I was failing Herbology. Told her she had it off Flitwick I was <em>this</em> close to flunking Charms, too. So now I'm banned from helping George out for the rest of the school year."</p><p>"Shit," Harry said. "That sucks."</p><p>"Not your fault. But if I don't step it up she's threatened weekly Howlers, Harry. Weekly. And she said she'd send <em>Percy</em> to check in on me if my grades don't take a turn within the month. <em>Percy,</em> for fuck's sake."</p><p>Draco scoffed. "How on earth are you failing Charms? It's my easiest class."</p><p>"Malfoy, I swear that tongue will get you into trouble one of these days. I'm fine on the practicals, it's just... I may have missed the last assignment. Or three. And a bunch before that."</p><p>"I can help with Herbology," Harry offered. "I need to study more, too. I don't think I'm doing great, but I'm not failing. Maybe we can ask Neville to help, too."</p><p>"Nice, yeah. Thanks."</p><p>There was a pause as Ron raised his eyebrows pleadingly at Draco.</p><p>"What? No. No I'm not tutoring you."</p><p>"Come ooon," Ron moaned. "Tell you what, I'll help you get your Animagus. I could just copy your homework and change a few words here and there, it'd be easy."</p><p>Draco handed Harry the flask and pointed at Ron. "First of all, yes, fine <em>if</em> you help me with my Animagus. But there's no way I'm letting you just copy my essays. If we're going to do this, we're doing it properly."</p><p>"Ugh. Fine. Deal."</p><p>Harry had a thought. "I uh... I could do with some help with Potions, too honestly. That class I might actually be failing. Professor Tang's not exactly taking it easy on us. Maybe just someone to look over my essays or something? Tell me where I'm going wrong?"</p><p>Draco put his hands on his hips. "And what exactly would I get out of this arrangement?"</p><p>The contents of Ron's flask had finally reached the part of Harry's brain that inhibited his more... Gryffindor-like tendencies. And shut it off.</p><p>He marched over and pulled the leather strap of Draco's belt through the buckle.</p><p>"Hmm. I was thinking... blowjobs?"</p><p>Draco's eyes widened and he nodded eagerly as Harry continued to press against him and pull at the buttons of his trousers. Harry smiled, drunkenly. He was beginning to enjoy taking Draco by surprise.</p><p>Moments later, Harry was on his knees and Draco had his hands curled in his his hair as he felt his cock harden in Harry's mouth.</p><p>"Woah, Harry. Fucking hell - has he done this before?" Harry vaguely heard Ron asking.</p><p>"Mhm<em>mm</em>," Draco said as Harry flicked his tongue.</p><p>"Uuuh. Wow. Never thought I'd see-"</p><p>Harry let go, leaving Draco to whimper with annoyance. "Ron. Stop talking."</p><p>"Oh. Right. Yep. Um."</p><p><em>And he was all confidence earlier... OK, it's just as much fun surprising Ron, too</em>, Harry considered as he returned to the task at hand.</p><p>He sensed Ron step forward and glanced up to see him pulling Draco's neck round to kiss him from behind. He leaned his chin on Draco's shoulders and stare down at Harry, meeting his eyes. The humour at his awkwardness from earlier fizzled away, replaced by a raw tension as Ron's dilated pupils took in <em>everything</em> Harry was doing. It was so strange, the whole thing balanced between absurd and insanely arousing.</p><p>And Draco was hardly helping as he tugged at Harry's hair, urging him to move more, move faster, as if the fact that Ron was watching them so intently made it all so much more urgent than it had been the other night, and he was thrusting, his thighs shaking, and coming just seconds later, spurts of hot liquid filling Harry's mouth as he shuddered with the intensity of the orgasm that had ripped through him.</p><p>Harry sat back. The sight of Draco, half naked and leaning limply against Ron was enough to make him reach down the front of his own trousers to adjust the painfully large erection that was currently throbbing against his thigh. But the touch was too much, it was so intense, and surely if Draco could get off then so could he...</p><p>The alcohol made his fingers fumble. He undid his own buttons and pulled out his cock. Leaning against his heels, he closed his eyes and stroked it, hard, fast, unable or unwilling to stop until he came into his hand with a shout.</p><p>He cracked open an eye to find the pair of them staring at him, dumb-founded.</p><p>"Err... what?"</p><p>"Ron. Did you just see what I saw?" Draco whispered hoarsely.</p><p>"Uh, yeah. Harry being... and that was... and he... the hottest thing I've ever um. Yeah. I saw."</p><p>"Holy shit."</p><p>"Seriously. Like... like a show or something. Fuck me, that's- Harry if I'd seen you do that years ago I think I'd have figured out this whole gay thing a <em>lot</em> faster."</p><p>Harry, sure he was bright red but feeling too high on afterglow to care, tucked himself back in and licked his lips experimentally. Ron hissed between his teeth like he'd been stung. So, Harry licked his lips again.</p><p>"Well..." he started. "Draco, who should go first?" He grinned as Draco winked at him, coming alive again and pulling his own trousers up.</p><p>"Why don't we take turns? You start."</p><p>Ron cottoned on the minute Draco spun round and got down - carefully - on his knees. Harry, feeling a little ridiculous and not caring one bit, crawled over to join him.</p><p>"Oh. <em>OH</em>. No way. Oh yes please. Oh this is happening. This is really happening."</p><p>"Yes, Ron," Draco drawled. "We are indeed going to suck you off."</p><p>Harry giggled. "God, do you have to say it like that? And um... one sec."</p><p>He laced his fingers through Draco's and kissed him firmly, feeling the worries of the last few days melt away.</p><p>"Sorry for being a git. Can't promise much, but I'll try to be less of one," Draco mumbled against his lips. They pulled apart and Draco smiled at him.</p><p><em>Maybe this is going to work out after all</em>, Harry thought, then, reaching for Ron's belt. <em>And hey. Even if it all goes to shit, at least we can have some fucking FUN.</em></p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0027"><h2>27. What, are you Trying to Study?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Shh, <em>Ron</em>," Harry whispered as Ron dragged him by the hand to the dorm washroom.</p><p>"They won't hear us, remember? Privacy spells on the curtains."</p><p>Harry looked behind him doubtfully.</p><p>"Yeah, sure. But what if they wake up? Dean's curtains aren't even fully closed..."</p><p>Ron pulled him into the bathroom and shut the door with a click behind him. He advanced on Harry, sporting a wicked grin. Something about the way his dishevelled hair framed one side of his face, and the stark, keen blue eyes that picked up the white morning light, the loose white vest top revealing muscular and constellation-freckled arms - yes, something about that combination of devil-may-care and devil<em>ish</em> did something to Harry that immediately made him forget his earlier concerns.</p><p>"Fuck it," he decided, and hungrily latched on to Ron's lips. He felt hurried fingers pull at the edge of his shirt and made an annoyed noise as his kisses were interrupted when Ron pulled it over his head.</p><p>"Mmm, two can play at that game," he said, nibbling Ron's lip as he shoved his trousers to the tile floor.</p><p>Ron, unperturbed, stepped out of the bundled clothing and shoved his hands down the back of Harry's own pyjamas, gripping so firmly that Harry let out an undignified squeak, which left the pair of them sniggering like they were a few too many butterbeers deep at Madam Rosmerta's on a Hogsmeade weekend, and not groping at each other in the early hours of the morning, stone-cold sober.</p><p>Ron yanked his own shirt over his head and - with a final kiss - nonchalantly walked past the partition to where the showers were. Harry stripped, too and followed, only to almost walk into the back of him.</p><p>"Heh, sorry. Just, uh, wanted to make sure you were coming, too," Ron said, setting off again. Harry held on to his hips, chucking to himself.</p><p>Ron twisted his neck around. "What you laughing at?"</p><p>Harry shook his head. "Nothing."</p><p>
  <em>Choo-choo, here comes the Hogwarts Express...</em>
</p><p>Their bare feet slapping against the tiles, Ron led them both to the furthest shower, which was a larger cubicle than the rest. Harry followed him in and they both stood, shivering slightly in the cold spray as the water of the shower took a few seconds to heat up. Once it was warm enough, Harry shouldered Ron to the side and took the prime spot under the showerhead.</p><p>"Hey!"</p><p>"Mmmm, oh that's <em>lovely,"</em> Harry moaned appreciatively. It was: the warm water running down his body, soothing the muscles and washing away the tiredness - it was heavenly. Right up until he felt himself being picked up by the waist and plunked down to the side.</p><p>He opened his eyes. Ron smirked and shook his head like a lion's mane under the water, spraying the sides of the cubicle with droplets.</p><p>Sensing an opening, Harry stepped in and snaked his hands around the small of Ron's back, which also <em>happened</em> to have the effect of trapping their two hard cocks between their bodies.</p><p>"Oh that's <em>very</em> nice, Harry, but I think I prefer..." At this, Ron took him by the hips and spun him around so Harry's back was against his chest and reached around to take Harry in his palm. "I think I prefer this, don't you?"</p><p>Feeling Ron's cock sliding against the crack of his arse, Harry wasn't sure if the spike of adrenaline that shot through him in that moment was fear or excitement. Though the slow pumping of Ron's hand against his member was enough to distract him.</p><p>"Uh-huh, oh <em>fuck</em>, keep doing <em>that</em>."</p><p>"Are you sure?" Ron's deep voice in his ear sent shivers down his spine. "Or would you like me to...?"</p><p>Harry felt his legs shake. Ron kept up the stroking motion. He swirled his thumb over the head with every pass, upping the sensitivity to dizzying heights.</p><p>"T-to what?"</p><p>Ron giggled, nervously. "Ah... um, suck you off?"</p><p>Images of Ron on his knees had Harry biting his lip with the effort not to come right there.</p><p>"You sure?" Harry remembered a months-old conversation. "What if you don't, err... like it?"</p><p>"I... somehow, I don't think that's going to be a problem," Ron laughed, hoarsely, making his point as he thrust against Harry. "'Sides. I owe you."</p><p>The next minute, Ron was on his knees, eying Harry's weeping cock with trepidation.</p><p>"Err. Alright?" Harry asked, feeling a bit like he was under a microscope.</p><p>"Yeah, just trying to figure out uhh... the angle of attack..."</p><p>"Oh, righ- <em>ah!</em>" Harry found himself unable to finish his sentence as Ron took him in his mouth and all coherent thoughts vanished from his mind.</p><p>Just then the pair of them froze as they heard the door to the washroom open.</p><p>
  <em>Shit shit shit-</em>
</p><p>"Oh hey, who's 'at in the shower?" Seamus' sleep-laden voice echoed on the tiles.</p><p>Harry coughed. "Err. Just me, Seamus."</p><p>They heard the sound of Seamus emptying his bladder in the urinal. "Oh. Up early."</p><p>"Uhh. Yeah."</p><p>Harry looked down to see Ron staring up at him, his own hand over his mouth.</p><p>The tap at the sink ran for a few seconds, then stopped with the squeak of a rusty faucet.</p><p>"Godric, does nobody tidy up their shit? This place is a state..." Seamus muttered to himself. "Anyway. Goin' back to bed," he said, more loudly. The door to the washroom closed behind him and Harry and Ron both let out their respective held breaths.</p><p>"That was <em>bloody</em> close," Ron hissed.</p><p>Harry nodded as Ron leaned his forehead against his thigh.</p><p>"Should we... uh?" he asked.</p><p>"Probably best to err, to get going?" Ron said at the same time.</p><p>They laughed.</p><p>"The thought of getting caught sucking dick by ruddy <em>Seamus Finnigan</em> doesn't exactly thrill me, Harry. Ugh, can you imagine his reaction?"</p><p>Harry pulled Ron to his feet.</p><p>"No, but I think it'd involve the invention of several new swear words."</p><p>"True. Once upon a time I think I'd be more freaked out by all this. By which I mean completely and entirely freaked."</p><p><em>You and me both</em>, Harry thought, shuddering at the idea of their dorm-mates - guys they'd known for years - finding out about what they were doing. It didn't bear thinking about.</p><p>They finished up, dressed in the pre-dawn gloom and headed out of the dorm. Draco was waiting for them on the balcony. With no-one else around, his posture - tense, arms folded, face schooled as a picture of apathy mixed with disdain - relaxed, and he smiled, as if relieved that they'd turned up at all.</p><p>"Hey," Ron nodded.</p><p>"Library?"</p><p>"Yeah," Harry replied.</p><p>The trio set off, keeping a slight distance in case anyone was watching. It wasn't unusual to be headed in that direction, and very few people were awake yet in the castle, but still (as Ron and Harry had learned moments earlier) it paid to be cautious. With their bags full of books, the few tired and downcast students they did pass in the corridors barely seemed to register them. They were too busy sporting the haunted expressions of forgotten homework and last-minute assignments themselves.</p><p>The library was pretty much empty, so it was easy enough to nab the secluded corner that they had come to think of as 'theirs'. It was mercifully far from prying eyes, in a rarely ventured section dedicated to an obscure branch of botany involving - primarily - mosses. Given the homogeneity of the book jackets, a collector had donated the lot, making for a disproportionately large selection on such an obscure and tedious subject.</p><p>"What shall we start with today?" Draco asked primly. He picked through the textbooks on the table. "Charms? Herbology? Potions?"</p><p>"Can't we skip to the blowjobs already?" Ron groaned, his head buried in his arms.</p><p>"We <em>tried,</em>" Harry commented. He chucked his Potions essay at Draco, who raised an eyebrow as he unfurled the parchment. "But privacy in this castle being what it is..."</p><p>The three of them sighed, almost simultaneously. Yes, they had managed to get away with stolen kisses - and other activities - so far, but it was getting increasingly dangerous. Point proven by Seamus nearly walking in on them earlier.</p><p>"Other activities <em>aside</em>, if you can bear to wrench your mind towards the present, Potter, I have some suggestions about this essay. For starters, you realise Hawthorne and Grindylow fingernails in these quantities are less likely to cure ringworm and more likely to give the poor recipient torrential diarrhoea?"</p><p>Ron's head snapped up, his face contorted in disgust.</p><p>"Ew. And with that, somehow, I'm not horny anymore."</p><p>"Good, then you can read this chapter on fluxweed."</p><p>"Who put you in charge?" Ron mumbled as the book landed in front of him.</p><p>"Literally - you."</p><p>"I'll show you who's boss tonight?" Ron tried, wryly. But Draco was like Crookshanks when the cat had his eye on dinner - undeterrable.</p><p>"Read. Now."</p><p>They studied.</p><p>And, as a result, it was with a happy spring in his step two days later that Harry burst into the Den, shrugged his bag off and threw himself onto a beanbag chair. He chucked a roll of parchment over-arm at Ron, who was sat with Hermione and Neville.</p><p>"Got an Outstanding on it!" Harry blurted out before Ron even had a chance to look.</p><p>One table over, Draco looked up and flashed him a quick, knowing smile.</p><p>"Oh well <em>done</em>, Harry," said Hermione, approvingly. "I was beginning to worry you were struggling. Now we just need to get Ron here up to snuff."</p><p>"Hey!" Ron said. "I'll have you know Flitwick said my homework was Acceptable just this morning."</p><p>Neville had reached over and was looking at Harry's essay. "Did you understand that bit about salves for granulated lesions?" Neville asked. "I got a long comment on that. With a sad face. The main gist was I missed the point entirely - oh!" He frowned and glanced at Draco Malfoy then back down at the paper, then over at Harry.</p><p><em>What is he looking at?</em> Harry thought. Then it occurred to him. Draco had this tendency to put little marks on the paper while he read, to remind himself of the bits he had comments on. The marks were tiny 'v' shapes, though. Quite distinct. If you'd seen them before. And of course, Draco had been helping Neville the other day...</p><p>
  <em>Oh shit.</em>
</p><p>Harry caught Neville's gaze and - wide-eyed - shook his head. <em>Please don't say anything, please don't say anything...</em></p><p>Neville, looking more confused by the second, nevertheless nodded and continued reading the essay as if nothing had happened. Harry felt the elation drain out of him like water down a plug hole. Great. Another thing to deal with. <em>What the hell am I going to say to him?</em></p><p>"So, have any of you got any Valentine's plans at the weekend?" Hermione said, suddenly. "Anthony and I are going to Hogsmeade, I believe. <em>Dervish and Banges</em> are doing a sale anyway so I may pick up a new scope for arithmancy. Neville? You doing anything on Sunday?"</p><p>This sufficiently distracted Neville from pondering the connection between Harry's essay and the nearby ex-Slytherin - evidenced by the beetroot blush that pinked his cheeks.</p><p>"Oh. Um. Well. I- I actually, I-"</p><p>Hermione let this go on for a few more seconds before humming quizzically, but pointedly. "Mhmm?"</p><p>"Uuh. Err. Yes. I have p-plans."</p><p>"Ooh, lovely. Who with - if you don't mind me asking? Is it Hannah? Sue? One of the twins? Or is she in another year?"</p><p>"She's in this year," Neville said, blushing even harder, if that was possible. "I- don't know if she wants people to know, um, yet, though. Sorry."</p><p>Hermione smiled. "How exciting, Neville. I hope you have a lovely time whatever you're doing. Good for you. Whoever it is she's very lucky, of course."</p><p>"Yeah," Ron chimed in. "I mean you're bloody gor- um, hands- good-looking. For a bloke. Anyone'd be lucky to go out with you is what I'm saying. And you're like, a great guy personality-wise, obviously."</p><p>Harry grimaced. <em>Just announce your sexuality to the whole common room, why don't you, Ron?</em></p><p>"Thanks, Ron," Neville said. Still, he looked like he wanted to escape through the chair.</p><p>"And you, Ron?"</p><p><em>Godric</em>.</p><p>"Oh I just remembered, I uh was meaning to give Sev her dinner," Harry interrupted quickly.</p><p>"And I sure want to watch 'cause it's uh, cool seeing a snake eat and, yeah, right yeah, got to go, 'Mione," Ron said, jumping up.</p><p>"Can I come too?" Neville asked, eyes begging. Harry and Ron looked at one another.</p><p>Ron answered for them both. "Oh, yeah course. Come on."</p><p>The three of them headed upstairs, Hermione's confused eyes following them as they rushed off. She sighed to herself and returned to scratching her quill against parchment.</p><p>"Idiots."</p><p>An ex-Slytherin, who had been listening intently the whole time, laughed quietly at the comment of a Muggle-born he had once loathed.</p><p>Upstairs in the dorm, Harry gave his grateful snake a mouse before steeling himself for the awkward lie-filled conversation ahead. But, before he could say a word, Neville jumped in.</p><p>"Thanks for getting me out of there. Oh. Here's your essay." He handed it over. "Listen, I um. I've been studying with B-Blair lately. And-" He glanced over at Ron, who had immediately gone and flopped on Harry's bed. He leaned in to whisper. "I've had some help from Malfoy before and uh. You have, too, right? Is he <em>tutoring</em> you?"</p><p>Harry let out all the air he hadn't realised he'd been holding in his lungs. He nodded.</p><p>"Uh. Yeah. Malfoy's been <em>tutoring</em> me." He spoke at a normal volume. Ron's hands tensed on the bed as he heard Harry speak. "Actually him and Ron and me have been studying together. It only started recently. We've got a... truce. We talked through a bunch of stuff and figured we were better off as... I guess you could call us friends now. Sort of. Yeah."</p><p>Neville sat in the chair by the cold fireplace. Harry took the sofa.</p><p>"Wow. I never would've thought you guys... wow."</p><p>He seemed lost in thought for a moment. Flashes of unreadable emotion flickered over his face, ending in something that looked like resolve.</p><p>"Harry. Honestly I thought you guys might actually be um... mad at me lately. 'Cause I shook Malfoy's hand. And I've been hanging out with Blair and the other Slytherins and... well. I don't know if I'm being stupid, but I think they're actually trying to prove something to the rest of us, right? In a sincere way, I mean. They've actually been quite fun to be around, and they've not been mean or anything, even Malfoy. It's like he's a totally different person and I don't know whether to believe it or not but the way Blair talks about him makes me think we never knew the real him anyway and-"</p><p>He gulped in a deep breath.</p><p>"Look, I have no idea if I've been doing the right thing but I reckon it's better we make amends if they're willing. And we're not children anymore. And V-Voldemort isn't around to manipulate everything and make everyone afraid so..."</p><p>"I agree," Harry heard himself saying.</p><p>"You do?"</p><p>"Yeah." Harry wrung his hands. His palms were sweating. He thought carefully about what he was going to say next.</p><p>"Isn't that the point of this whole eighth year experiment? To build bridges? Heal old wounds, that sort of thing. You're bloody amazing Neville, 'cause while the rest of us tried to keep everything separate, you were the brave one. As usual. And you did what we should've all been doing. You started making friends out of enemies. And they should never have been our enemies. We're just kids. OK, not quite. We <em>were</em> just kids.</p><p>"So yeah, Ron and I... we've been umm, taking your lead I guess. Getting to know Dra- Malfoy. Lately. Trying to put our differences aside and that. I'm not sure Hermione'd approve to be honest, but we're with you, Neville. It's time to put all that shite to rest."</p><p>Neville nodded vigorously.</p><p>From the bed, Ron raised his arm straight up and gave them a thumbs up.</p><p>Wanting to avoid talking too much more about Draco, Harry's intuition kicked in and - feeling wicked - he leaned in.</p><p>"Soooo, what are you and Blair Zabini doing on Valentine's?"</p><p>Neville squeaked. "H-h-h-how d-d-do. No. Uh, nothing, we're not doing anything. What makes you think that I that m-m-me and Blair would be d-dating? That's absurd and-"</p><p>Ron hopped out of Harry's bed and trotted over.</p><p>"Ooooh Harry, that was sneaky, mate. Really? So it's true - you and Zabini?"</p><p>"<em>Of course n-n-not!"</em></p><p>Ron chuckled. "We <em>were</em> wondering, you know. How long's this been going on?"</p><p>Harry couldn't help but think Hermione's tactful line of enquiry earlier might've been a kinder route. Still, Neville's stuttering and desperate denials confirmed his suspicions enough to satisfy his curiosity. For now. After all. He didn't want the spotlight turned back round on himself.</p><p>"Well, whatever the case, you two seem to be... close. Of late. Which is great."</p><p>Neville deflated like a stuck balloon.</p><p>"You guys really think so?"</p><p>Harry elbowed Ron before he opened his mouth to pry further. "Yeah, we do."</p><p>Neville gave him a weak smile. "Well... in that case, why don't we set up a study group?"</p><p>
  <em>Huh?</em>
</p><p>Harry hadn't been expecting the conversation to take this turn.</p><p>"Yeah, it'd be great. You guys, me, Blair, Malfoy. Would Hermione want to join do you think?"</p><p>"No!" Harry and Ron said at the same time. There was no way Hermione wouldn't suspect something else was going on if she saw all of them together. (She was much too shrewd, and she knew them too well. It was frankly a miracle she hadn't spotted anything off between Harry and Ron. As far as they were aware. All three of them together and she'd sus something out sooner or later.) And there was the small issue of her hating the Slytherins, especially Draco, as much as the Golden Trio ever had.</p><p>"'Mione doesn't know about our... new friend. Don't think she'd be too happy with us, honestly. She'd need time to get used to it. And we need to find a way to tell her. After all, he spent five years calling her a Mudblood, for starters."</p><p>"Oh," Neville nodded. "I guess then just the five of us? And we could keep it to ourselves? I know Blair prefers to study with other people - helps her stay focused, she says. It'd be good to have a group... since we're all... friends..."</p><p>"Whaddaya think, Harry? Would Draco - err, Malfoy - go for it?" Ron queried.</p><p>"Doesn't hurt to ask."</p><p>And that was how membership to their little morning study group grew by two new bodies. And became much more about the work and less about other - more distracting - subjects. Which was probably for the best for them all. Though it certainly gave Ron something else to grumble about, whenever he had the chance to do so.</p><p>And, feeling like he was the keeper of way too many secrets now, Harry's <em>other</em> study project and <em>other</em> study partner had a breakthrough that Saturday. It was - to both Hermione and Harry's surprise - <em>Harry's</em> line of enquiry that proved the most promising. Of course, Hermione was the one who put the final few dots together. Getting up early in the morning, before dawn (much to Ron's suspicion and chagrin), they headed to the corridor armed with a slim, dusty volume on <em>Powerfulle Spelles of Contaynmente</em>, a handful of herbs Harry had managed to pinch from Tang's storeroom thanks to the invisibility cloak, and the snitch that he had caught in his first ever Quidditch match with Slytherin and which had once contained Marvolo Gaunt's ring.</p><p>"So," Hermione said briskly, pushing up her sleeves. "We need to attract the Heart. If we do that and contain it fast enough, the rest <em>should</em> extinguish. I have no idea what state that will leave the Room of Hidden Things - probably ashes and nothing more - but perhaps the Room of Requirement will have survived."</p><p>Harry looked at the spot on the wall apprehensively. Fiendfyre was a dark magic spell. A powerful curse that, in all but name, was on the same level as the Unforgiveable Curses. It destroyed everything, and everyone, in its path. The usual charm to cease the flames was not enough to douse the huge inferno of fire-born chimaeras, dragons, serpents and an army of other beasts that now consumed the Room of Hidden Things. Draco had demonstrated that. But, hidden away in the book Hermione now held open, he had found reference to a containment spell that was said to be strong enough to hold the Heart of Fiendfyre, which was to say, the source of the fire's magical properties.</p><p>And it was Hermione who found a way to draw the Heart out, because of course reaching it was near impossible, as in this case it would be found exactly where Crabbe had case the spell, deep in the belly of the Room of Hidden Things.</p><p>The only problem was they would have to open the door. Harry remembered the deep burns on Draco's hand. Yes, all that was left now was a fine scar - <em>one among many</em>, he thought, ruefully - but Draco had been <em>lucky.</em> If the fire had gotten out... if it had a chance to take hold of the castle... well, it could have burned the whole of Hogwarts to the ground, and probably taken plenty of lives with it. Frankly, it was ruddy stupid of Draco to try. It wasn't much smarter for Harry to do the same, months later. There was a reason none of the teachers or other wizards and witches who had helped fix the castle over the summer had even tried.</p><p>However, Hermione was certain it would work, and that was enough for him. You don't go through what they'd been through together and not trust her instincts with this sort of thing.</p><p>"You prepare the container, I'll get the attraction spell set up," Hermione instructed. She took some chalk from her pocket and started to draw on the wall where the door to the Room of Requirement would normally appear.</p><p>Meanwhile, Harry set the now dormant snitch down, opened it and filled the bottom half of the sphere with shreds herbs. When he was done, he took out his wand and cast the containment spell.</p><p>"<em>Tenete cor meum ignis."</em></p><p>The snitch glowed a golden-orange and its limp wings fluttered briefly, before it returned to normal. Harry hoped it had worked.</p><p>"Ready?" he asked.</p><p>Hermione nodded. The wall was a mass of symbols and circles, meticulously drawn. A visual reminder that when it came to complex magics, Hermione was one smart witch.</p><p>Taking the steps together, they walked back and forth in front of the wall three times. Harry had trouble picturing the Room of Hidden Things as it once was. His last memories of the place were hardly good ones. Draco pointing his wand at him in anger... Crabbe being consumed by the flames he had created.</p><p>Once they had finished, the familiar door appeared. The chalk symbols remained, now covering the door. They glowed orange.</p><p>Harry held out his hand and Hermione took it.</p><p>"Come fast, my heart of fire! Come fast, come fast!" they chanted, over and over. The orange glow of the chalk became brighter and brighter, until they were white and cast the whole corridor into stark washed-out black and white.</p><p>"That should do it," Hermione said, breathing heavily. "We should move quickly."</p><p>They had agreed that she would open the door and he would use the snitch to capture the heart. With the containment spell and the many protective enchantments as backup, they hoped the raging Fiendfyre would be held within the small box. Hoped. Of course, there had been no means to test the spell. Neither of them wanted to create <em>more</em> Fiendfyre, after all.</p><p>Hermione put her shoulder to the door and gingerly touched the handle. It was clearly cool enough to touch, so she grasped it with shaking fingers. She nodded. Harry threw up a Shield Charm that should give him a few seconds of protection. She did the same. In shimmering bubbles of light from the protection spells, and in the fierce glow of the chalk circles, the shadows lurched around them as Harry moved in.</p><p>Hermione opened the door a fraction, and, unable to see from the light that spilled out, Harry thrust his arm forward and hoped that it wouldn't immediately burn down to the bone.</p><p>""<em>Tenete cor meum ignis!"</em> he yelled.</p><p>The light from the doorframe whipped around and all of a sudden took the form of a serpent. Out of instinct, Harry repeated the phrase of the spell, 'Hold fast, my heart of fire!' in Parseltongue. The snake turned to him, hissed and dove for the snitch, pouring its impossibly long body headfirst into the container and disappearing into the bed of herbs, which caught fire and sent red-glowing ashes scattering into the air. After the serpent disappeared, Hermione shoved the door closed just as Harry snapped the container shut.</p><p>The corridor went black.</p><p>It was like all light in the universe had gone out. Even the light that should have been visible from the windows. That, or Harry had gone blind. He blinked. Coughed.</p><p>"Hermione?!"</p><p>"I'm here. <em>Lumos!"</em> Nothing happened.</p><p>Thankfully, moments later, Harry found he was able to see in the gloom, and soon enough, the corridor looked normal again. Perhaps it had been their eyes after all. The chalk symbols were gone.</p><p>"Did it work?"</p><p>Harry held up the snitch. It was warm to the touch, like a cup of tea that had been left sitting for a few minutes too long, but was by no means hot. The clasp, however, had melted shut, forming a seam of molten metal around the centre.</p><p>"I think so," he replied. "Guess we need to open the door to find out."</p><p>Hermione nodded. Harry took a few steps back and she opened the door again. Inside, they were met with what looked like a sea of ashes that went on for miles, or a grey, alien desert. There was nothing left of the Room of Hidden Things but endless dust. A faint glow, like twilight, bathed the space.</p><p>"It's... beautiful. In a way. Will the other rooms work, do you think? Or is it just going to be this, forever?" Hermione wondered aloud.</p><p>Harry shrugged. He pocketed the snitch.</p><p>"Guess we'll have to find out."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0028"><h2>28. A Gift</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Do you know what he's been up to?" Draco muttered to Ron behind Harry's back.</p><p>"No clue. And he made Hermione keep his damn secrets, too. "</p><p>Harry gave them a sceptical look over his shoulder. The corridor was empty - half of Hogwarts was in Hogsmeade and the rest were either slumped in the library trying to ignore the fact that they were dateless, or were off in some hidey hole doing something furtive and illicit.</p><p>"You're literally going to find out in a minute, right? Stop grumbling and pick up the pace."</p><p>He turned back, hoping neither of his shadows had noticed the tremulousness in his voice. All his earlier confidence and excitement had given way to nerves - his heart beating just a bit faster than was comfortable, his breath coming a little short - as they approached the corridor where the Room of Requirement lay, hidden.</p><p>It soon became obvious enough where they were headed.</p><p>Draco drew up short, suspicion plain on his face. Ron bumped into the back of him and took the opening as an invitation to snake his arms around the slighter boy's waist.</p><p>"What exactly are we doing here, Harry?" Draco asked, standing so stiffly in Ron's embrace that it was almost funny.</p><p>Harry shrugged, giving him a lopsided grin.</p><p>"You'll see."</p><p>With that, he walked back and forth in front of the blank wall. A frown crossed his brow as he concentrated. Once, twice, three times... and there. There was a door where before there had merely been slabs of stone. The door was decorated in brass fixtures, set into raw knotted oak, carved here and there to accentuate the curves of the gnarled wood.</p><p>He reached for the handle.</p><p>"W-wait - stop! What are you doing?" Draco said, stepping forward and waving his scarred hand under Harry's nose pointedly.</p><p>Harry rolled his eyes. "Oh yes, I forgot, silly me. Look. It's fine." He batted Draco's hand down.</p><p>Then, he turned the handle and pulled the door open. Draco and Harry stood in the doorway, gaping at the contents of the room. A room Harry had asked for, but hadn't quite been sure what he'd receive. But the Room of Requirement had - as diligently as it ever had - provided.</p><p>
  <em>'A private place for Ron, Draco and me to be together.'</em>
</p><p>"What? What's in there? Oh-" Ron said, joining them at the doorway. "Holy shit, Harry. The room's working again!"</p><p>"I should think that's rather obvious," Draco quipped, but there was no real barb in his voice. He was too busy taking in the room.</p><p>"This is what you were trying to do?" Ron asked. He craned his neck. "You've got us a- a sex pad!"</p><p>"Ye- huh? Uh no, Ron. <em>No,</em> that's not what this is, it's just..."</p><p>Draco raised an eyebrow at Harry's flustered protests. "And the fact that there's a giant bed over there is just - what? A coincidence?"</p><p>Harry rubbed the back of his neck. "Happy Valentine's day, I guess?"</p><p>"I can't quite figure out if you're trying to one up me by fixing this bloody place when I so miserably failed, or romance me."</p><p>"Git."</p><p>"Sweet talk is it? Well then..."</p><p>Draco grabbed Harry's hand and pulled him into the room. Ron followed eagerly. He shut the door behind them. As soon as the latch clicked, the door disappeared, melting into the stone until there was just a keyhole left in the centre of a brick. A key, conveniently, was hanging from a hook beside it.</p><p>The room was spacious, yet cosy. For some reason, it was closely modelled on Dumbledore's Den. The colours were much the same, with orange and teal and grey accents, except the sofa was a snow white leather and the white extended to the bedspread. There was a dark purple top-sheet covering the bottom half of the mattress. The four-posters were dark mahogany, draped in deep bluish-green velvet curtains. There were no windows, but clusters of thick pillar candles were set into stone alcoves around the circumference of the room. The same wall-to-wall carpet as the Den, ankle-deep and lush underfoot, adorned the floor. Victorian-style animal motifs danced around the upper half of the walls, paint chipped and fading. A fireplace crackled. The coals glowed low and red.</p><p>"Sorry. I didn't think we were getting anything for each other, you know, for today..." Ron said as he touched the wall where a fox was frozen in place as it chased a white hare.</p><p>"Me neither. <em>But,</em> looks like we've found out which one of us is the romantic," Draco mocked.</p><p>Harry clenched his fists, feeling his already queasy stomach flip. <em>This was way too much. Shit shit shit...</em>"Yeah? Well maybe we should just leave if you'd don't like it..." he said, spinning on his heel.</p><p>Draco caught him by the back of his jumper.</p><p>"I didn't say that," Draco said. His breath tickled Harry's ear, which sent shivers down his spine. "This is pretty bloody fantastic, actually. Cheesy, yes. And you <em>are</em> a dreadful show-off... but... you did good here, Harry."</p><p>"I did?" Harry felt his fingers relax as he tried to - surreptitiously - wipe the sweat from his palms. Draco was moving closer to him. His hands were tracing down to hold his hipbones.</p><p>"Yeah," Draco said, but it was hardly a word, just a breath. He nibbled at the place where Harry's ear met his neck. Harry tried very hard to stay standing.</p><p>"Mmm."</p><p>Harry twisted around in the now familiar embrace.</p><p>So quickly, those arms had become welcoming, and soft, and firm, and- and they were kissing, falling into a pattern, a back-and-forth of playful, light touches, teasing, until one or the other would give in to a need and press into the kiss, and it was as Draco's tongue slipped in to slide against his own - sending sparks of heat through Harry's entire body - that he cracked an eye open and caught sight of Ron.</p><p>Shirtless.</p><p>"Mph!" he managed to say. He broke the kiss apart, eliciting a grumpy sigh from the blonde.</p><p>Ron was standing in the warm glow. He dropped his shirt in a pile on the floor as he stared at them. His eyes were so dilated the blue looked almost all black. He kicked off his shoes. His red hair, slicked back, gave him a predatory look. And the collar around his neck, contrasted against the corded tendons, and the bob of his Adam's apple as he swallowed and - <em>Godric - licked his lips -</em> it all ignited something furious in Harry's chest: an inferno of savage interest that wicked away the playfulness, the nerves, the breath he didn't know he'd been holding.</p><p>"Fuck," he breathed, staring.</p><p>It wasn't that Ron was different. He'd known him for years. Every inch of his body was familiar. He was pale, freckled, scarred. Not slim. Somewhat muscular, but padded. Nothing Harry had not seen before, yet these days Harry found himself totally enthralled by every part of him. His flaws, his imperfections, moles, freckles, love handles: they had all become transformed by Harry's new appreciation for his best friend's body. And when he stepped forward to gently pull Harry against his chest he was soft, but firm.</p><p>"Hey," Harry managed, feeling like a deer caught in the headlights of Hagrid's motorbike.</p><p>Ron didn't answer. Instead, he slipped a hand around the back of Harry's neck, where the hairs were standing more on end than usual, and pulled him in for a kiss. He didn't stay long, though. Turning to Draco - a move that made Harry feel the coolness left behind in the absence of his warmth - he pulled him forward by his collar and planted a kiss on his lips. Draco moaned and deepened the kiss immediately.</p><p><em>I'm never gonna get used to that sight, am I?</em> Harry thought as he watched them make out with increasing urgency.</p><p>And oh... Then Ron was untucking Draco's shirt and unbuttoning it, and Harry gazed hungrily as - in one rough tug - he stripped the offending item from Draco's bare shoulders. Their chests clashed together, both naked from the waist up, with roaming hands finding flesh to grab and squeeze.</p><p>Without breaking the kiss, Draco twitched a hand towards Harry and he felt the edge of his own jumper lift at the behest of the wandless magical suggestion.</p><p>He took the hint.</p><p>Somehow - for reasons Harry couldn't even begin to fathom - the sight of him taking off his shirt and jumper caused both Ron and Draco to stop and watch him, glassy-eyed.</p><p>"Is it me or is this candlelight doing him all sorts of favours?" Draco said, eyes pinned on Harry even though the question was clearly directed at Ron.</p><p>Ron licked his lips (<em>again)</em> and nodded.</p><p>Harry was pretty sure he was still the same scrawny, specky, messy-haired guy he'd always been. However, the way the pair of them were looking at him he almost had the urge to find a mirror and check, just in case.</p><p>He made to step forward. Then, hesitated.</p><p>Draco folded his arms over his chest.</p><p>"What was the plan, then? You fixed the Room. You got us in here on a rather... <em>telling</em> day... and there's a King-sized bed over there. Surely the great Harry Potter has a plan?"</p><p>"He always has a plan," Ron said, agreeably. Then, paused. "Though usually not a brilliant one... actually, usually incredibly dangerous, likely to get us all in massive amounts of trouble kinds of plans, now I think about it..."</p><p>"Oi!"</p><p>Draco chuckled. "I mean, that sounds about right, given our current situation. Oh Godric..."</p><p>"What?" Ron asked.</p><p>Draco looked horrified. "I've been roped into one of Potter's insane, life-threatening plans. <em>Me</em>. How did this even happen..."</p><p>Harry resisted the urge to whip out his wand and jelly-legs jinx the blonde.</p><p>"As I remember it, this whole thing definitely wasn't all <em>my</em> idea," he said, instead. Then, feeling emboldened, he strode past the two of them, sat on the bed and kicked off his shoes and socks. "But if you want a plan, here's what I've got. We have this place all to ourselves. I can't decide if I'm terrified, or horny, or probably both, so I don't exactly know what I want to do. But I know I want to do it with you. Both of you. And I'm sick of fumbling in cleaning cupboards and almost getting caught surrounded by vacuum cleaners in the Muggle Studies showroom. So can we stop talking and just... get over here so we can figure out if this, right now, is my worst plan yet or not, ok?"</p><p>Harry took off his glasses, put them on the bedside table and flopped back onto the duvet. Moments later, he jumped at the feeling of a hot mouth enveloping his nipple. His eyes fluttered shut. Hands - <em>whose? -</em> traced down his chest. The bed dipped behind him and more hands appeared in his shoulders, rubbing down his arms, forearms, settling in to lacing through his fingers, palm to palm, then pulling, gently, so his arms were pinned beside his head and the hands had rotated to hold his wrists.</p><p>He looked up, blinking, to see Ron's serious face above him, upside-down. Unable to push himself up, Harry settled for parting his lips and thrusting his chin upward. It was question quickly answered, as Ron dipped forward and kissed him, taking advantage of the angle to nibble on Harry's lower lip in a way that made him squirm insistently against the other set of hands, the other hot mouth, that was languidly stroking and kissing and licking down Harry's body.</p><p>Draco responded, undoing Harry's belt and inserting a hand into the open V of his unbuttoned trousers to rub against Harry's hardening cock. The last shreds of nerves disappeared as lust took over in that moment, and Harry grinned against Ron's exploring lips as Draco reached lower to cradle his balls in his hand.</p><p>Ron kissed messily down Harry's chin and chest and, finding himself presented with Ron's own bare skin, Harry took the opportunity to latch on to one of his brown-ish pink nipples. Ron hummed at the touch and the nipple under Harry's tongue went stiff and hard as he lapped at it.</p><p>Feeling increasingly frustrated at the angle of Draco's hand, Harry lifted his hips to allow the ex-Slytherin to pull of his trousers and <em>oh.</em></p><p>Right. His trousers <em>and</em> his boxers.</p><p>He didn't have time to worry about being the only naked one on the room before Draco's skilled lips closed around the head of his penis and the world flashed white with pleasure. He groaned. Ron sat back up, swore under his breath and then leaned down to plunder Harry's mouth again. The combined sensations nearly sent Harry spiralling over the edge within minutes.</p><p>"Hang on, that's umm-" Harry tried saying. Ron kissed him again, interrupting him. "Th-that's gonna make me..."</p><p>"Isn't that kinda the idea?" Ron muttered against the shell of Harry's ear. The deep rasp in his voice only heightened the feeling that he was about to climax, all too soon. He bucked.</p><p>Draco, taking the hint, turned his mouth to Harry's inner thighs instead. Ron sat back and let Harry sit up, then immediately shuffled forward to press his chest against his back and bite - a little more than lightly - on his neck.</p><p>Draco was on his knees between Harry's legs. His head was buried in the space where skin gave way to a wiry forest of hair. Harry reached down to shove his fingers in his hair, feeling the urge to dishevel the smooth locks. Ice blue eyes peered up at him disapprovingly as he pulled the end of the black ribbon, letting it fall away, and gathered some of Draco's hair in his own fist instead. He felt powerful. Vulnerable. Wanted and needy. Burning up with that need, in fact. Like it was the only thing that mattered.</p><p>It wasn't long before all three of them were fully naked. Quick learners - at least in this area - Harry and Ron kept finding themselves in a competitive struggle, both wanting to give more pleasure than they took; wanting to take control. Harry was faster, but Ron's weight and strength meant he was more often than not able to pin Harry down. Draco amused himself, then, with undermining them both by distracting whoever had managed to get on top with mind-blowing swirls of his tongue and long, knowledgeable fingers.</p><p>But now. Now they had him sandwiched between them. They were half-kneeling, half-sat on the bed, Harry facing Draco and Ron behind him, legs intertwined. There was no denying the waves of desire that were consuming Harry's mind as he shamelessly rutted against Draco's equally eager hips. Ron was busying himself with purpling Draco's all-too-easily marked skin with yet another lovebite as Harry came up for air.</p><p>Draco looked like a wild thing now. All primness had gone. His eyes were no longer icy and aloof, nor were they dark and stormy, but rather clear, piercing, honest. Stripped bare. Beads of sweat gleamed on his pale skin as they caught the firelight.</p><p>He reached up a hand to cup Harry's cheek, just as he had done in Collins' classroom.</p><p>"Hey. Um. Did you know your eyes..." he began.</p><p>"Now might <em>not</em> be the time to mention that I have my mother's eyes," Harry joked, thrusting pointedly. Ron chuckled against Draco's skin.</p><p>"No. I just. They're so fucking green. The only time I've seen anything as green as them is the light from the Killing Curse-" As if realising what he was saying, he hurriedly continued, his breath ragged, "but they're like... everything that curse isn't. They're so... I don't know how to describe it. So alive. Like I'm alive when I look into them... Shit, I'm not making any sense..."</p><p>Harry could hear an edge in his voice. A catch in his throat as the emotion bubbled up and he pressed his lips thin. He reached past him to hold Ron's hips, so they were grinding firmly against one another, so Draco had no means to wriggle free.</p><p>"You <em>are</em> alive, Draco. So alive. You're here. You're here. We've got you."</p><p>The words didn't make sense, but they seemed to be the right thing to say. Draco held his face in his hands and kissed him like he was air to a drowning man.</p><p>"Fuck Harry. Ron. Here. Let me, we, um, we should-" he mumbled between kisses, between thrusts.</p><p>"We should do what?" Ron asked.</p><p>"Fuck-" Draco said, more in response to Harry's wicked tongue than Ron's question.</p><p>Nevertheless, Ron's eyes lit up. "Mmm. Yeah. Err. About that. How?"</p><p>"How what?" Harry said against Draco's mouth.</p><p>"How do we... err. Fuck?"</p><p>Draco twisted in their embrace and pinned Ron with a slightly cross-eyed, excited look.</p><p>"I have some ideas."</p><p>Draco batted at their hands until they let him free and he stumbled over to the nightstand and started rummaging in the drawer. Catching his eye, Harry pounced on Ron and snogged him senseless, until they were interrupted by a polite, but slightly impatient, cough.</p><p>"Do you want options or do you want me to tell you what to do?" Draco said. In one hand he was now holding his wand. In the other, a bottle full of clear, viscous liquid.</p><p>"Draco, no offense mate, but my brain's in my dick right now. What do you mean?" Ron said. For emphasis, he started stroking his shaft languidly with one hand.</p><p>"Well? Harry?"</p><p>Harry shook himself.</p><p>"Draco, you're the only one with experience here, right? So do you want to... you know?"</p><p>Draco surprised him by shaking his head.</p><p>"Yeah, I do. But not right now. Not for the first time. You two should do it. I want you to do it. I can help. Ha. I... I can watch."</p><p>"Are you sure?"</p><p>Draco gestured, exasperated. "Yes I'm bloody sure."</p><p>Harry looked at Ron, not sure what to ask. What to say. Before he could cobble his thoughts together, Draco sighed, put the bottle down and dragged Harry up off the bed and through a door that Harry was sure hadn't existed before, but which turned out to lead to a floor-to-ceiling tiled bathroom.</p><p>A few minutes later, they emerged. Ron was propped up against the pillows, hand still moving against himself, and wearing nothing but a puzzled expression.</p><p>"Hey, where'd you go? What were you two doing?"</p><p>"Ron."</p><p>"Actually, Harry, mate, you've gone very red, are you-"</p><p>"Ron, please shut up. And do me a favour and don't ask."</p><p>Despite the near certainty that they were all about to do something far more intimate than Harry had ever imagined doing, for some reason he still didn't want Ron to know the details of the briefly muttered lesson Draco had imparted. Nor the spell he'd cast on Harry, which had been as unexpected as it had been... cleansing.</p><p>Draco, having briefly slipped into an efficient, brusque and clinical mode, spun Harry around and snogged him so soundly that the last few minutes were very nearly erased from Harry's memory.</p><p>"Come on Scarhead. You can do this," he whispered. "Trust me."</p><p><em>Trust me.</em> Once upon a time that very concept would've been impossible to imagine. And yet here he was. Here they were.</p><p>He caught Draco's hand.</p><p>"Um. Before we do this, I just wanna say... I do trust you. I didn't before. I do now."</p><p>"Yes yes, I somehow got that impression," Draco said, but he blushed all the same, and the corner of his mouth twitched seemingly involuntarily.</p><p>He tugged on Harry's hand and Harry let him take them both back to the bed. At a nod from the blonde, Harry crawled between Ron's legs and took him in his mouth. Ron gasped and shut his eyes, his cock, already erect, swelled even further at the ministrations of Harry's eager, if unpractised, tongue.</p><p>And behind him, Harry felt Draco kiss his spine, down from between his shoulder blades, down and down and down, not stopping, not hesitating. Just relentlessly planting those soft kisses on his skin until he was buried deep between his cheeks, his tongue lapping over the knotted muscles there, and it should have felt... Harry wasn't sure what it should have felt like. Shameful? Disgusting? But it was like Draco was venerating his body with his tongue. Worshipping it. Caring for it. Caring for him. Wanting to give him pleasure. And it was difficult for his mind to worry when his body was practically shivering with need.</p><p>Draco's tongue was replaced with cool, slippery fingers, moments later. They messaged at his entrance. He tried to relax into the unfamiliar feelings and felt the tip of one finger slip inside.</p><p><em>OH. Well, that's not so bad...</em> he thought, enjoying the feeling of that single digit sliding in and out, getting deeper each time. Oh. Except it was going even deeper now, and the slight burn as Draco pushed into him - down to the knuckle - was building into an uncomfortably constant sensation. It was only Ron's impatient thrust of his hips that distracted Harry from the building tension.</p><p>"Mm!" Harry protested around Ron's cock as Draco - without warning - added another finger, sliding into him even as his muscles tightened and his back arched to escape the burning. He felt Draco's other hand rub soothing circles on his lower back, which was already slick with sweat.</p><p>"Trust me," he heard Draco say, his breath slightly laboured.</p><p>It still didn't feel good anymore. It felt exciting, but the burning didn't stop. It only increased as Draco kept going. It got worse when he added another finger again, and those three fingers seemed to be doing something impossible to spread such a tight hole. Ron's semi-hard cock lay abandoned as he pressed his forehead into the ginger's thigh and gritted his teeth. By the time Draco said he was done, Harry had been seconds from calling the whole thing off.</p><p>Harry rolled gingerly onto his back, feeling strange and slippery and exposed. Before he could relax, Draco took his wrists and yanked him on top of him. He shuffled them around so his legs were dangling off the side of the bed and Harry was on all fours, over him.</p><p>Draco craned his neck back to look at Ron, whose predatory eagerness from before seemed to have been replaced with a cautious optimism.</p><p>"Go on then. Go around," Draco ordered.</p><p>Ron didn't need telling twice. He jumped out of the bed and circled round so he was behind Harry. He place his hands on Harry's hips. Feeling his control of the situation crumbling, fast, Harry pushed himself up and wrapped an arm around Ron's neck from behind, turning his head to kiss him roughly.</p><p>"You sure about this?" Ron asked.</p><p>Harry nodded, trying to quell the battle that was raging inside of him. He kissed him again. Ron moaned, then laughed as their teeth clicked together because of the awkward angle. He shoved Harry forward so he landed almost nose-to-nose with Draco. Draco, who was looking serious, with a wrinkle between his eyebrows.</p><p>"Harry..." he started, eyes searching Harry's own. "This isn't like with a girl. This is... harder. You'll get used to it. But the first time. Yeah. It's not easy. Sorry."</p><p>Harry leaned on on his elbows and kissed the corner of Draco's mouth.</p><p>"Am I the Boy Who Lived or not? Think I'll manage getting fucked by my best mate."</p><p>"Really gonna have to rethink this 'best mate' thing after this, I reckon," Ron said, sliding his cock between Harry's cheeks for emphasis.</p><p>Draco looked past Harry and up at the redhead looming above them both.</p><p>"Slowly," he said.</p><p>Harry felt Ron adjust the angle. He felt the tip press against his prepared entrance. Felt it slide in, stretching him, already, more than Draco's fingers had. The burning returned with a vengeance. Draco, sensing what he was feeling, hugged him close and turned his neck aside so Harry could bury his face into him.</p><p>"Keep going, Ron," Draco said as he massaged Harry's back, the circles easing the tension enough for Ron to push forward another inch, before Harry's hand whipped back and held his hips still.</p><p>"It hurts, hang on. Fuck," Harry said.</p><p>But Draco had other ideas. He grabbed Harry's arm and pinned it.</p><p>"Keep <em>going</em>, Ron."</p><p>"You sure. He said it hurts..."</p><p>"Of course it hurts. This bit hurts. It'll get better. Trust me." This 'trust me' was directed at Ron. And it seemed Ron did, because he pushed forward more, and Harry could hear his teeth grinding, and the roar in his ears growing louder and louder and-</p><p>Draco's voice again.</p><p>"Do it, Ron. Just do it. Don't stop."</p><p>And all of a sudden Ron let go of what little willpower he was using to hold back, and he plunged deep inside Harry, and the wave of pain had him yelling against Draco's throat and scrabbling at the sheets, and trying to escape as Ron slid out, and in and out again.</p><p>But after a few seconds, something else started to happen. He stilled, trying to pinpoint the feeling in amongst the overwhelming burn that had him quivering and sweating and moaning like he'd lost his mind. At every thrust, <em>there</em>, he could feel the pain receding; the pleasure, like a spark, igniting.</p><p>Draco was muttering sweet nothings in his ear, soothing him, and encouraging Ron, and not flinching as Harry bit down on his collarbone to anchor himself as the pain and the pleasure became one, and Ron was losing control, thrusting harder and faster, his own moans incoherent as he bent over Harry and held him with a bruising grip.</p><p>And then Draco wrapped his hand around Harry's own cock and began pumping with the rhythm of Ron's thrusts. And finally the fear let go, and the sensations crystallised into pure pleasure, and Harry felt himself tumbling, tumbling towards climax, and then Ron was coming <em>inside him</em>, which was so fucking hot that his cries sent Harry's own orgasm off, and he was coming harder than he ever had before right onto Draco's stomach.</p><p>Later, when the three of them were collapsed on the bed, staring up at the canopy of curtains, Harry felt himself drift back from the stupor he'd fallen into. Back into a warm, messy tangle of limps and sheets. Back, holding in one hand the slim, long fingers of a boy - a man - he'd once considered an enemy, who was smiling at him; and in the other, the hot, rough hand of his best friend, or his... whatever Ron was to him now, who clearly couldn't keep the grin off his face, either.</p><p>"So..." he began. "I <em>think</em> that was one of my better plans, don't you?"</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>